


If You Don't Grow

by GeneratorCat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Batman!Dick, Cuddles, Demisexual Tim Drake, Dick has anger issues, Dick is trying his best, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Healing, Homeschooling, Knitting, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, Smoking, Someone gets punched, Tim and Jason are kids at the start of this but worry not- nothing happens for a while, Tim starts off a little brat, and i must agree, awkward sex talks, but then gets some sweet sweet character development, but they deserve it, good big brother Dick, has been described as: Lots of broken birds being rehabilitated by each other, lots of hugs, tags to be added as the story develops, talking! about feelings!, though don't be mistaken he's still a mischievous boy, we getting soft y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:23:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: “I need to take care of myself. Icantake care of myself.”“You shouldn’t have to, you’re just a kid.” God, does Dick know that. He knows what it feels like to be doing things you shouldn’t have to do at such a young age. About feeling like you have to take care of yourself, be strong and useful.He knows now it’s bullshit.(Officer Dick Grayson meets Jason on the street.)((Alternatively titled: In which Dick pulls a Bruce))





	1. 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> "If you don't grow, growing pains is just pain."  
> Title from Epik High's [Home is Far Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTD9Jysi3_g).
> 
> Another WIP!?!? 0_0
> 
> Yeah, sorry for anyone hoping for an update on one of my other unfinished fics. But I'm really into this one, I'm pretty sure I'm actually gonna stick with it. I think it's going to be pretty long. I'm trying something a little different-- usually my writing is... succinct? But here I'm trying to really dive into each scene and take the story at an easy pace. Hopefully it works for y'all. 
> 
> I have very high hopes for this story :)
> 
> warnings: there's some mentions of attempted assault, but nothing very graphic

“‘Night, George,” Dick calls to the man behind the counter.

“Try not to get shot, copper.”

“Just for you.” Dick grins and blows on his steaming coffee before snapping the lid back into place and shouldering his way through the door of the convenience store, out onto the frozen sidewalk. He zips up his GCPD-issued uniform jacket, wishing he could wear the nice leather one Alfred got him for Christmas. He hasn’t had a chance to try it out yet; the only time he leaves the house lately is for work or early morning trips to the grocery store with Tim, and leather doesn’t go with sweatpants.  

He needs to call one of his friends and go out soon. He has friends, he’s sure of it, even if he hardly sees them anymore. It’s just hard to find time for them when he has a full-time job and a  kid at home. And sure, Tim’s almost a teenager and can, for the most part, take care of himself, but Dick’s still responsible for him and it’s important for the two of them to spend time together. Both of them know what it’s like to not have that, and Dick wants to do all he can to make sure Tim has someone, really has someone in his life.

Dick sighs, and his breath is a white fog in the cold night air.

He starts his patrol. It’s a calm night. He walks his section of Crime Alley (and it still feels counterintuitive to walk the streets rather than fly across the rooftops), occasionally greeting people he passes. Some of them ignore him. Most watch him carefully, warily. The guy that owns the falafel cart on the corner of 14th street, Hector, is nice enough to him, but that’s probably just because Dick gives him a lot of business. His nightly patrols are consistently fueled by cheap coffee and street food. It gives him very little leverage when trying to encourage Tim to eat less junk food. Other than Hector the only people that get friendly with Dick when he’s Officer Grayson are the working girls and boys.

When he turns onto Park Row there’s an immediate whistle from Stacey across the street, and next to her Connie blows him a kiss.

Dick waves. “You ladies doing alright this evening?”

“Better now that your pretty face is here,” Connie calls back. “I only wish you weren’t bad for business.”

Stacey subtly signals him over, so Dick glances up and down the street before crossing to their side.

“Gotta do my job, keep everyone safe.”

“You’re about the only cop in Gotham that does.”

He's known Stacey for years, though she doesn't know that. It had taken a lot longer to gain Stacey’s trust as officer Dick Grayson than as Robin, but it was effort well spent. She’s always been helpful, and Dick enjoys being able to have a good relationship with her. She used to give Robin candy sometimes. Dick didn’t want to take it because she shouldn’t have been spending her money on him when he could buy all the candy he wanted, but Bruce had told him to let her do it, that it was important to her. She doesn’t give Officer Grayson candy, but she does give him respect and information.

“Is there a problem?” Dick asks quietly.

Lighting up a cigarette, Connie tells him, “There’s a newbie. Just a kid.”

Stacey adds, “He’s a real good kid. I knew his mom before she ODed. He shouldn’t be out here.”

“How old?”

“Thirteen, I think.”

Dick winces. He doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know. “Has he pulled yet?”

“Not that I’ve seen, but it won’t take long. He has ‘fresh meat’ written all over him.”

“Okay.” Dick shoves down a surge of anger, channels it into something useful: determination. “Where can I find him?”

“In front of the old theatre.”

“Thanks, ladies.”

“Just take care of him, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best. You take care of yourselves,” he says, forcing a smile. “Put a jacket on, it’s cold out.”

Stacey laughs. “Honey, I haven’t felt the cold in ten years. Go on now.”

He goes. One block down he reaches the abandoned theatre and on the corner there’s a boy trying to hide the fact that he’s shivering, his skinny legs shaking in a pair of ripped jeans and faded sneakers. Shoulders hunched and hands shoved into pockets, hair hanging in his face and eyes fixed to the ground.

Dick deliberately scrapes his heel against the concrete as he approaches, loud enough for the boy to hear. His head whips around and wide, green eyes go scared, then uncertain, before settling on something that’s not as intimidating as he probably thinks it is.

“What do you want?” the kid snaps.

Stopping a few feet away, Dick takes a casual sip of his coffee. “Just wanted to say hi. Talk for a minute.”

The boy turns so he’s mostly facing Dick, but also ready to run down the alley next to him. “Well fuck off, I don’t have a minute.” He swallows, makes a visible effort to loosen his posture, tilting his head in invitation. “U-unless you wanted to pay for my time.”

Dick isn’t sure if this kid is brave or stupid. He raises an eyebrow. “You do realise you just propositioned an officer?”

“I said you could pay for my time, after you said you wanted to talk. If you take that another way that’s on you.”

Hm. Not totally stupid. “What’s your name?”

He scoffs. “What d’you want, man? You gonna bust me? I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet.”

“Your point?”

“You still have a chance to not do anything.”

“Well I gotta do something if I wanna eat soon.”

He’s so tiny, and his legs look weak from something other than the cold. It must be a long time since he’s had a good meal.

“I’ll buy you food,” Dick offers.

The boy frowns sceptically. “What?”

“We can go to that burger place down the street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Knowing you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to tonight.”

“Yeah right,” he says, rolling his eyes, “just out of the goodness of your heart? And what about tomorrow night.”

“I patrol this road most nights. I wouldn’t mind bringing you something to eat.” Dick knows it’s not a permanent solution. Hell, it’s barely even a temporary solution.

The kid knows that too. “I need things ‘sides food. And I need to take care of myself. I _can_ take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to, you’re just a kid.” God, does Dick know that. He knows what it feels like to be doing things you shouldn’t have to do at such a young age. About feeling like you have to take care of yourself, be strong and useful.

He knows now it’s bullshit.

The boy scowls at that. “I’ve been on my own for a while, alright, and I do just fine. I’m _not_ a _kid_.”

“You call this fine? Putting yourself in danger like this? Go ask Stacey and Connie why they carry switchblades in their boots. About the times the Johns took off without paying. Or maybe Connie can tell you why she needs medicine she can’t afford.”

Dick knows exactly where this will lead if the kid stays here.

“Look I get it,” the boy growls, voice unsteady. “This wasn’t plan A or even plan B, but it’s all I got right now. I don’t wanna do it either but I don’t have any other choice. It’s not like McDonald’s hires thirteen year-olds, and I ain’t gonna hurt nobody, so that throws out pretty much all the jobs to be had for a street rat in Gotham.”

“There’s no one that can take you in?” Dick asks. He shakes his head. “What about foster care?”

“The last place they put me in I woke up to one of the older kids in my bed and didn’t stay around long enough to get kicked out for breaking his nose. Figured I was better off on my own– at least I can get paid for it out here.”

Dick’s heart is breaking, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. He’s seen this a hundred times and it always hurts, but this time… “I can help, okay, I can figure something out.” The boy shoots him a hard, disbelieving look. “Just, for now, let’s go get you that burger.”

He chews on his lip for a minute. “I’m not going with you,” he says, eying the car that’s passing slowly, “but if you really wanna go get me some fries and a cheeseburger, I’ll stay here till you bring them.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll be back in a minute. Please don’t leave.”

The kid just looks away and wraps his scrawny arms around himself.

Dick’s surprised and relieved to find him still standing there when he gets back, greasy bag in hand. The boy takes the bag and inspects the food carefully before taking a bite of fries.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Can I know your name now?”

Reluctantly, he says, “Jason.”

“Jason. I’m Dick.”

Jason smirks. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, and I’ve heard all the jokes, believe me.”

“I bet.”

“I know a place you could stay,” Dick says, not sure he wants to go there until he’s already said it. But anything is better than this, right? And it would only be for a few days, until he can figure out a more long-term solution. “My… friend would be happy to take you in.”

“Why the hell should I trust you? I don’t know you or your friend. Letting some strange guy take me home sounds like a great way to get killed.”

“You know Stacey, right? You can ask her about me.”

Jason looks down the street at Stacey, who’s waving goodbye to Connie as she climbs into an old tan Carolla. “Okay, _Dick_.”

Dick stays where he is. He sees Jason offer the rest of his fries and Stacey takes them, ruffling his hair. They talk for a few minutes.

Just for a few days. Jason will be safe with Bruce for a few days, and then… Dick knows what he’ll want to do then. It was his first thought, actually, but he’s not ready. Their apartment is so small, and he needs to talk to Tim about it first. And all that’s if Jason agrees. He hopes Jason is more scared of this life than he is of Dick.  

Dick knows he has to do this. He knows he can’t let Jason stay here. He knows he can make this work. Probably.

He knows a lot of things.

At the same time he feels totally lost.

~

“I don't care that you're a cop,” Jason says as he slides into the front seat of the cruiser, tugging Dick’s coat tighter around himself, “one wrong move from you or your friend and I'll break your face.”

Dick starts the car and turns on the heater. “Can you reach that high? Maybe you should try going for the crotch instead.”

“Don’t think I won’t!” Jason is trying not to look vulnerable but it’s impossible.

Dick watches him, considering, and then, “How about this...” He pulls the taser from its holster on his hip and offers it over, handle first. “You can keep that, as long as you promise not to use it just for fun. If anyone does something wrong, if you think you’re in danger, you just press this button.”

Jason stares at it for a long moment before taking it, holding it firmly with both hands in front of his chest like a shield. “This won’t do shit against your gun.”

Slowly, Dick takes his glock out and slides it underneath his seat. “There aren’t any guns where we’re going, and I only use mine as a last resort.”

“You ever been shot?”

Shifting into drive Dick answers a tight, “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“The Joker shot me. When I was a teenager.”

Jason lets go of the taser with one hand to warm it in the stream of hot air blowing from the vent, the other still clutching his weapon closely. “Is that why you became a cop?”

“The short version, yeah. Someone needs to protect kids from him.”

“Most people would say that’s Batman’s job.”

Dick can’t help but laugh, a short and bitter thing. “Sometimes it’s my job to protect kids from Batman too.”

Jason frowns. “The hell does that mean, what does Batman do to kids?”

“Nothing,” Dick sighs. “Forget it. Sorry. Hey, you still hungry?”

They stop for tacos on the way out of the city.

“If you drop hot sauce in my car you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason’s actually being really careful, laying out napkins across his lap. “I can eat without making a mess,” he snaps.

Okay, so he’s not ready for joking around like that yet. Jason’s still defensive, on edge about Dick doing things for him. He softens his voice. “Hey, it’s fine, it’s not like it’s spotless in here anyway.”

He pulls out his cell phone. “Hey, Alfred, is Bruce there? No, you don’t have to– could you just ask him to come home? I’m on my way over with someone. Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Alfred. Bye.”

When Dick turns onto the bridge entrance Jason asks, “Why are we going over the Kane? There’s nothing out there except mansions and shit.”

“That’s where my friend lives.”

“In one of the mansions? You know this is sketchy as hell, right.”

Dick laughs.

“Who is this _friend_ anyway?”

“He’s not really a friend.” Jason looks slightly panicked until he clarifies, “He adopted me.”

“So… he’s your old man?”

“Yeah.”

As they turn onto the Wayne property Jason guesses, “It’s Bruce Wayne, isn’t it.”

Dick looks over at him, a little surprised.

“I read newspapers,” he says with a scowl. “Super rich dude named Bruce with an adopted son named Dick– Grayson, right? Everyone in Gotham knows that much. It’s not hard to figure out.”

Dick smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s Bruce Wayne.”  

The manor grounds are spooky at night, a dark, grassy expanse with shrubbery carefully groomed into odd shapes, sometimes geometric, sometimes animal. He takes the small road that leads to the side of the main house and pulls into the garage, parking alongside a dozen high-end cars worth far more than his department cruiser. Turning off the engine he faces Jason, who’s eying the Rolls next to them.

“I know this is all intimidating,” Dick says, drawing Jason’s attention. “I came here when I was nine. I was terrified to touch anything. Just know if you do break something it’s not the end of the world, Bruce has more than enough money to replace it. And it’s okay to ask for stuff, Alfred really does want to do things for you. You can explore, you can read the books in the library, you can swim in the pool. It’s all fine.”

Jason closes his eyes, wilting into himself. “This is so fucked up,” he says, voice small. “This is weird. You do know that, right? This shit just doesn’t happen, and I’m still not convinced you didn’t bring me here for… I don’t know. Weird shit. And now I’m trapped out in the middle of nowhere because I’m an idiot.”

As much as he wants to reach over and lay a hand on Jason’s back, Dick doesn’t move. “You’re not an idiot, you’re a smart kid. And I know this seems weird, but we also live in a city where a man dressed as a bat fights a crazy clown and a woman who can control plants, so I think weird is relative.”  

Jason looks up at him.

“And you’re not trapped; I’ll get you out of here the second you tell me you want to leave.”

“I wanna leave.”

Dick moves to put the keys into the ignition.

“Wait! Wait, that was just… a test. We can stay. For now.”

“Okay. And you have your taser,” Dick adds. “It’ll be okay. Are you ready to go inside? I think Alfred made cake.”

“You’re literally luring me into the house with sweets!” Jason yells, but he laughs a little too. He takes a deep breath. “Okay.” Opens the door.

Dick leads him through the door to the house, then down the hall to the sitting room.

“Who’s Alfred?” Jason asks as they walk inside, looking around at the art on the walls and the huge sofas and the intricately carved wainscoting.

“That would be me, sir,” Alfred says, standing at attention, bearing a tea tray complete with an evenly sliced cake.

“What the hell,” Jason whispers. “A _butler?_ ”

“Jason, this is Alfred. Alfred, Jason.”

Jason is still clutching the taser, but Alfred ignores it. “A pleasure, Master Jason.”

“ _Master!?_ ”

Dick sits down and after a moment Jason follows. Alfred sets the tea and cake on the coffee table in front of them. “Master Bruce will be along shortly.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be in need of anything else, sirs?”

“I’m fine. Jason?”

He shakes his head mutely, looking deeply uncomfortable.

When Alfred steps away Dick says, “I meant it earlier, if you want anything just ask him.” He doesn’t answer, so Dick picks up his plate and leans back.

Jason stares blankly ahead of him. “Why are you doing this? I don’t– I’m just a street rat from Crime Alley, I don’t deserve any of this.”

“What you don’t deserve is to be living on the streets, standing on the corner in the freezing cold to sell yourself just to be able to eat. Speaking of eating, the cake is really good, you should try it.”

“Is it the one with strawberry icing? That one is my favorite,” Bruce says, coming in to the room. He shares a look with Dick and then approaches Jason, offering his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

Jason stands and shakes his hand. “Jason Todd.”

“Woah, firm grip there, son.”

Dick rolls his eyes at the man’s cheesy smile. “I brought Jason over to stay here for a few days.”

“Are you planning on using that thing on me?” Bruce asks, pointing toward the taser.

Jason meets his eyes evenly. “If I need to.”

“I won’t give you need to,” he says seriously.

From the doorway Alfred says, “Excuse me sirs, I took the liberty of preparing some of Master Richard’s old clothes. I believe they should fit young Jason well enough. I can show you to your room so you may clean up,” he tells Jason.

Jason hesitates so Dick jerks his chin at Bruce, who steps away to speak with Alfred. Quietly Dick says, “It’s okay, Jason. We can go if you want, but you’ll be okay here. Bruce and Alfred will take care of you while I figure out a plan. For now, why don’t you go with Alfred while I talk to Bruce. Come back here when you’re done and let me know if you want to stay.”

Jason nods. “Okay.”

“I believe, Master Jason, that Master Richard will require his uniform coat. I’m sure we have others you may wear.”

“Oh.” Jason looks down at the jacket he’s swimming in like he forgot it was there. He unzips it with some reluctance.

“Sorry,” Dick says as Jason hands it back to him, “I’d let you keep it if I could. Now go on, I’ll be right here.”

Jason walks over to Alfred and follows him out of the room, glancing back at Dick once before he leaves.

Silence stretches for a long moment and then,

“Where did you find this boy?”

“Out on a corner. Park Row.”

“Why him?”

Dick knows what he means: why did he chose to save this one kid out of dozens. He sighs. “I’m not exactly sure.”

“You can’t take in every child that needs a home, however much you may want to.”

“I’m not going to, Bruce, I just. I saw him and for a second I saw Tim, and myself, and even you. When you lost your parents you had Alfred and a place to go home to. When I lost mine you took me in. When Tim lost his you took him in too. But this kid, he didn’t have anywhere to go. He’s been on the streets for who knows how long all by himself. He’s where I could have ended up if you hadn’t helped me. We were all lucky in that way and I want to do the same for Jason. He’s a good kid, I can tell.”

“Be careful. He could be dangerous,” Bruce warns. At Dick’s glare he holds up an appeasing hand. “I don’t mean intentionally, I mean that coming from where he does and experiencing what he has, he will have trauma.”

“I’m fully aware of that, and I’m going to help him deal with it. Actually deal with it, not just throw on a costume and punch bad guys.”

Bruce presses his lips together.

“That’s what you’d do, right?” Dick asks, voice hard. “Slap an R on his chest and have him sort through his issues that way? Put him in the line of fire under the guise of helping him?”

Dick rubs at his eyes tiredly. “Look I’m not here to argue this, I just need you to watch him until I’m ready. It’s just for a few days.”

“He’s welcome to stay longer.”

“He won’t need to.” _You don’t get to keep him,_ Dick wants to say. “I have a plan.”

“I can take care of him. And Tim, too. He is my ward, after all.”

“I know what happens to wards of yours, and they’re better off with me.”  

When Jason comes back, hair wet and face clean and dressed in warm clothes and not holding the taser gun defensively, Dick smiles. “So what do you think? Will this be okay for a little while?”

“Yeah.” Jason clears his throat. “It’s great. Thank you, Mr. Wayne, for letting me stay.”

“It’s not a problem at all, son, glad to have you,” Bruce says warmly. “Now I’ve got some work to attend to, but Alfred can show you around.” With a nod he leaves.

Dick takes out his ticket pad and a pen and on the back of a blank ticket he writes his phone number. “I’ll be back soon to check on you, but feel free to call anytime.”

“You said… for a few days, and for a little while. What’s going to happen to me after a few days?”

“I have an idea, but… I have things I need to check on first and then I’ll talk about it with you, okay? We’ll talk about your options and what you want to do.”

“Okay.” Jason bites his lip, the paper crinkling, held tightly between his fingers. “Thank you, Dick.”

“You’re welcome, Jason. Thank you for trusting me.”

~

On the drive back to the station Dick thinks about all he’ll need to do in the next couple days.

But first thing’s first, he needs to talk to Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!! I could really use encouragement on this one, if I do it right it'll be fairly long and involved and I want to do it right.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://generatorcat.tumblr.com/) if you like :D


	2. 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just…” He pulls some of the harshness from his voice. “Trust me, okay? Can you do that? I have a good feeling about this. I think it could be good for us, too.”
> 
> “Why? We’re fine, just the two of us.” Tim doesn’t like the thought of someone else coming in and ruining what he and Dick have. They haven’t even had it for that long, but Tim likes it.
> 
> “Trust me,” Dick asks again. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait and post this in a few days and establish a weekly posting schedule but I woke up at 2 a.m. and am that weird mix of exhausted and antsy and I wanted to DO something so here you go love me 
> 
> Thank you a thousand times to everyone who commented on the first chapter <3

Tim wakes up to Dick doing handstand-push ups in the living room, which isn’t all that unusual except that he’s singing along to Pat Benatar as he does it and that means he’s stressed.

“Rough night?”

Feet hit the carpet and Dick rights himself with the well-honed acrobatic grace Tim envies. He’s never been able to come close to moving like Dick, even after months of Robin training, and he knows Dick’s abilities are the result of over twenty years of hard work but that hadn’t been much comfort when he’d seen the disappointment on Bruce’s face. Dick assures him he’d learned a lot in such a short time, but obviously it hadn’t been good enough– Tim hadn’t been good enough. If he was he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

He keeps up with some of the training now, but not as extensively. He and Dick practice martial arts, but not how to disarm and disable a room full of people. They keep it to things an average person should know, not what a vigilante needs to fight crime. Still, compared to the other twelve year-olds in his class Tim definitely knows more about kicking ass.

“You could say that.” Dick wipes sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. He must have been at it for a while. “Listen, kiddo, I need to talk to you.”

“Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”

Dick says, “No one is hurt,” and Tim notices he didn’t actually answer the question.

“Okay,” Tim says warily. “Can we talk while I eat breakfast? I need to leave soon, first period starts in like forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah go ahead and eat, but depending on how this conversation goes I might want you to not go to class today.”

Not go to school? Must be serious, Dick is strict about him going to school.

In the kitchen Tim finds a clean bowl and milk and Cheerios and sits at the bar, feet dangling from a high stool. Dick pours himself a glass of water and leans against the counter.

“Okay. So.”

“So,” Tim mumbles around his cereal.

“I met a boy.” Tim raises an eyebrow. Dick rolls his eyes. “Not like that. On my patrol last night there was this kid on the corner.”

 _On the corner._ Tim knows what that means. He saw it a couple of times during his short time as Robin.

Dick continues, “I took him to the manor. Just temporarily, to keep him safe and taken care of until I can find something better.”

Tim frowns. “You took a street kid you just met to Bruce’s house? Why?”

Dick gives him that look he sometimes does, like there’s something wrong with him. Tim does or says the wrong thing and he doesn’t know it’s wrong until Dick’s eyebrows pull down in exactly that way. “Because it was better than watching him stand in the freezing cold waiting to get pulled by a John.”

Obviously, yeah, Dick would want to help him, but… “Well what are you gonna do with him? Do you have something in mind already?”

“Well here’s the thing… I was thinking he could come stay with us.”

“You’re gonna bring him _here?”_ Tim asks, incredulous. “For how long?”

“Until he wants to leave. However long he wants that to be.”

“Wait, you want him to _live with us?_ Permanently? We don’t even know him!”

“If you have a serious problem with this I can figure out something else for Jason, but Tim, I want you to think hard about this. He’s a thirteen year-old kid with no family, no home, no money, no prospects. There’s no safe place for him to live. There’s no safe, legitimate way for him to support himself. He’s a good kid and I want to give him the same chance Bruce gave me.”

“Then why not let Bruce take him?”

There’s that look again. “You know why. You know exactly what Bruce would do with him. He’d get hurt, just like you and I did, maybe even worse. I won’t let that happen.”

“But. I just don’t understand why this has to become _our_ responsibility. There’s other people that could deal with it.”

“ _It_ is a human being, Tim. You need to remember that. He’s a scared kid barely older than you.” Dick’s getting mad. Why? Does he just expect Tim to go along with this blindly, without asking any questions? Questions like,

“How do you know he’s not just taking advantage of you?”

The soft early morning light shining through the kitchen window highlights the hard lines of Dick’s face and body as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Tim. “None of this was his idea, okay. I had to work pretty hard just to get him into my car and I haven’t talked to him about living with us yet. I don’t like your classist attitude right now. Just because he’s from Crime Alley doesn’t mean he’s dangerous or manipulative. It’s good to be cautious, but there’s a difference between that and being prejudiced.

“Just…” He pulls some of the harshness from his voice. “Trust me, okay? Can you do that? I have a good feeling about this. I think it could be good for us, too.”

“Why? We’re fine, just the two of us.” Tim doesn’t like the thought of someone else coming in and ruining what he and Dick have. They haven’t even had it for that long, but Tim likes it.

“Trust me,” Dick asks again. “Please.”

Tim drags his spoon through soggy cereal. “Do I need to decide right now?”

“No, you should think about it. But don’t take too long, I want to get the ball rolling on this. I was hoping I’d go talk to Jason today about what he wants to do and then tomorrow we could start looking at a new place.”

Tim frowns, feeling a little disoriented. “We’re moving?”

“The two of us barely fit in this apartment as it is, with another person we’ll need something bigger.” Dick grins wryly. “I’m looking forward to having a bedroom again, as fun as it is to live on a couch.”

When Tim had moved in Dick had given him the single bedroom, choosing to sleep on the couch. Tim has to admit, it would be nice to able to sit in the living room whenever he wants, or heat something up in the microwave without risking waking Dick. Since he works the night shift Dick is asleep during the day, usually while Tim is away at school but on the weekends it can get inconvenient. Tim’s tried to argue that it makes more sense for Dick to take the bedroom, but he insisted Tim have it. If they get a new place…

“We’d all have our own room?”

“Well,” Dick drags out the word. “I don’t know if we can afford a three bedroom apartment, but we’ll see what’s out there.”

The two of them are mostly living off Dick’s GCPD salary and occasionally the money Tim inherited when his parents died a few months ago. Technically Bruce is in charge of Tim’s assets, since he’s the legal guardian, but he’s never prevented Tim from taking from the account. The inheritance is huge, enough to buy them a much larger, nicer place than where they’re living now, but Dick refuses to let him pitch in more than he thinks is reasonable.

“We _could_ afford–”

“We’ve been over this,” Dick cuts in firmly. “I’m the adult here, it’s my job to provide. You shouldn’t have to pay for our apartment.”

“But I don’t mind!”

“I know, and you’re a good kid. But no. You can decide what to do with your money when you’re an adult. Until then, you get to live like a regular person.”

Tim pulls a face and Dick laughs.

“I think…” Tim asks, “Can I meet him?”

“Who, Jason?”

“Yeah. I think I would feel better about all of this if I talked to him.”

“I’m not gonna take you over there so you can interrogate him,” he warns.

“I think you have me confused with Bruce.”

“You two are too much alike sometimes.” Dick sighs. “Yeah, okay, that’s a good idea. I’m sure he would want to meet you too before agreeing to move in. Get dressed and we’ll go.”

Tim hops off the stool and skips to his room. “No school!”

~

Tim recognises Jason the second he sees him. It’s the same black hair and green eyes and he’s barely grown since the last time Tim saw him, not like Tim. Between Jason’s malnourishment and Tim’s training, they’re about the same size now.

This kid is the reason Tim became Robin in the first place. This is the kid that took the wheels off the batmobile last year. This kid is a criminal.

Tim remembers the way Batman had laughed when he came back to find three of his four tires lined up neatly off to the side, the fourth hanging by one lug nut. Tim has a photograph of that moment, it’s one of his favorites. He also has a photograph of Jason kneeling next to the left back wheel, loosening the bolts.

Dick asks, “Is something wrong?” and Tim realises he’s been staring. He shakes himself.

“No, no. Hi, I’m Tim.”

“Hi,” Jason says. “...Who are you?”

“Tim is my… little brother.” Tim can’t help but smile. That’s the first time he’s heard Dick say it like that. “Bruce is his legal guardian, but he lives with me.”

Jason’s eyes bounce between the two of them. “So this is like, _a thing_ you do. Taking in strays.”

Dick chuckles. “Apparently.”

They’re in the library; that’s where Jason had been when they arrived, in the far back corner of the room, feet tucked under himself and a Jules Verne novel in his lap. Tim honestly had forgotten Bruce’s place had a library. He never spent any time in here. But Jason looks right at home with a stack of books next to him. He had looked comfortable until he saw Tim and Dick, and then his body had gone stiff and his face guarded. He also kind of looks like a dweeb in Dick’s old clothes.

“You should have told me he was stuck in your dork jeans, I would have brought something for him to wear.” From the look Jason gives him that was probably an asshole thing to say. Oops.

“What are you talking about,” Dick asks with mock-offense. He takes a seat in one of the big leather armchairs. “My clothes are totally hip. Right, Jason?”

“They fit okay and there’s no holes, that’s all I need. These are the nicest clothes I’ve worn.”

Yeah, Tim’s definitely an asshole.

Dick asks, “Did you sleep okay last night?”

Jason nods. He’s lying. Dick can probably see it too, but he lets it go.

“Look, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful but I want you to tell me what’s going on,” Jason says. “I don’t like not knowing what’s happening to me. At least before on the street I knew what to expect.”

“Well…” Dick glances at Tim who, after a beat, nods. “Do you want to come live with us?”

“With you two? For how long?”

“As long as you want. If it’s okay with you, it could be permanent.”

“What would I have to do?”

The implications of that question have Dick clenching his teeth, but he quickly puts on a neutral expression. “Not much. House rules are: pass all of your classes, no drinking, no drugs, no smoking.” Dick must notice the small change on Jason’s face because he asks, “You smoke?”

“Sometimes,” Jason admits.

“Okay, we can help you quit. As for school, what grade are you in?”

Jason inspects the floor. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time.”

“That’s fine. You can take a placement test, and then we’ll get you enrolled.”

“Don’t you, like, have to be my parent to enroll me? That’s why I couldn’t go, after my mom… after she was gone. I mean what are you gonna do,” he asks with a scoff, “adopt me?”

“I’m going to assume legal responsibility of you. I’ll be your legal guardian. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Jason clears his throat. He thumbs the pages of the book he never actually set down. “That’s fine. I wanna go back to school soon.”

He _wants_ to go to school. Tim shakes his head. What a nerd.

~

While Dick and Jason go over the details Tim heads for the kitchen.

“Hey, Alfred.”

“Hello, Master Timothy.”

“So, what do you think?” He grabs a coke from the fridge, pops it open. “About Jason.”

“I believe Master Richard possesses fine instincts.”

“You like him.” Tim leans against the counter and watches Alfred cut vegetables and dump them into a pot on the stove.

“He insisted upon washing his own clothes. The only reason he didn’t succeed is that he could not find the laundry room, and I simply would not abide the boy washing them in the sink.”

Tim laughs at the mental image of Jason versus Alfred, politely arguing over doing the laundry.

“He is very reluctant to accept my services,” the butler adds.

“He’s just not used to it.”

“I remember well when a young Master Richard arrived here. He was reluctant as well, but not to such an extent. Master Jason values his autonomy greatly. That he allowed Master Richard to bring him here is quite telling of the severity of the situation he was in.”

“He’s gonna live with us.”

“I had assumed as much.”

“I’ve never really…” Tim snags a piece of carrot to munch on. “It was always just me and my parents and they weren’t home a lot, and then it was me and Bruce and he wasn’t home a lot. It was weird enough getting used to living with Dick, and now… I think it’ll be hard to live with Jason.”

Alfred hands over a full carrot, and Tim sticks out his tongue but eats it dutifully. “I imagine all three of you will be facing difficulties. There will be an adjustment period.”

“I notice you didn’t say it’ll work out.”

“I cannot guarantee that. But I am hopeful.”

“Hey,” Dick says from the doorway, “are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the chat, Alfred. Later!”

“I expect you to finish that carrot, sir.”

Tim snatches it back from Dick. “Of course!”

He follows Dick out to his car. “What now?”

“I’m going to drop you off at home and then I’ll go talk to Gordon, see about getting my shifts covered for the next couple days while I’m sorting all this out, and then start the process for becoming Jason’s guardian.” Dick pauses, looks over at Tim. “Thank you.”

“You’re the one doing all the work here,” Tim deflects, uncomfortable. Dick keeps looking at him though so he mumbles, “You’re welcome.”

Dick finally pulls away from the manor. “Speaking of doing work, when we get home you can get started packing.”

Tim groans, knocking his forehead against the window.

~

The next day is a Saturday so they head out first thing in the morning to look at apartments without Tim having to miss school. Oh joy.

Alfred drives Jason into the city to meet them at the first place they’re looking at. Dick said it’s important for them to all find a place together. When the car pulls up to the curb Jason hops out of the front seat before Alfred has a chance to try to open the door for him.

Jason’s wearing what Tim assumes are his own jeans and a t-shirt with one of Dick’s old jackets, likely because he didn’t have one of his own. Part of Tim feels vindicated. He knew Dick’s clothes were lame. Jason didn’t want to wear them in public.

They greet each other awkwardly. Tim feels like he’s being set up for a friendship, or like a housecat being introduced to the new dog as Dick stands back watching them, hopeful.

Inside the lobby Dick greets the building’s owner. “Mrs. Kimball? Hi, I’m Dick Grayson, I called about the apartment.”

“Hello, Mr. Grayson–”

“Call me Dick, please,” he interrupts, taking her hand to shake and treating her to a wide, warm, toothy smile. Tim can practically see her melt.

“O-of course, Dick. In that case, call me Vanessa.”

He repeats her name, “ _Vanessa_ ,” and she raises her hand to her chest when he finally lets it go.

Jason leans in to whisper to Tim, “Is he always like that?”

“You should see the way he talks to waitresses. He gets free pie,” he whispers back. Not that Vanessa would notice even if they started shouting, she’s only got eyes and ears for Dick now. “It’s gross to watch, but then I get to eat the pie, so.” Tim shrugs.

“Let me show you to my apartment. The!” She laughs nervously. “ _The_ apartment, I mean.”

They file into the elevator and ride up to the top floor. Vanessa leads them down the hall and unlocks the last door on the left. “Here it is,” she says, walking inside.

There’s a kitchen and a living room and one bathroom and a linen closet even a balcony and it’s all pretty great, except…

“There’s only two bedrooms,” Tim points out.

“You and Jason can share a room. I’ll get you bunk beds, that’d be cute.”

Tim’s not sure if he’s being fucked with or not. “I think we should keep looking. You have a whole list of apartments to look at today.”

Vanessa quickly interjects, “There’s a gym in the basement! I’m sure you boys could make use of that,” she says, eyeing Dick’s arms.

“See, Tim? There’s a gym right downstairs.”

“ _Dick_.”

“Vanessa, would you excuse us for a minute,” he asks, turning up the charm in his smile. “Jason, come here.”

Jason walks over from where he’d been inspecting the kitchen. “I think this place is great.”

“You’d think any place is great.”

The horrified look Dick gives him then makes Tim want to crawl into a hole. It’s way worse than the usual Tim-said-something-wrong look.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Tim says to the floor. He knew that was bad the second it left his mouth. Forcing himself to meet Jason’s eyes, he says again, “Sorry.”

Jason gives a curt nod. Shrugs. “‘S probably true.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.”

Dick shakes his head. “This place _is_ great.” He raises a finger for each reason he lists. “It’s in a good neighborhood, close to your school and to the station. It’s in our price range, we’re on the top floor, the building has a low number of break-ins on record. I did a background check on the Kimballs and all of the tenants– no sex offenders or mobsters or loonies working for Two-Face.”

Jason look at him sharply. “Is that a shot at me?”

“What?” Dick asks, baffled.

“The Two-Face thing.”

“Did– did you work for Two-Face?”

“No, my…” Jason bites his lip. “My dad did. Til he got pinched.”

“Oh. Jason, I didn’t know.”

“I figured you’d looked me up and saw.”

“I only double-checked that there wasn’t any next of kin, maybe someone you didn’t know about. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t taking you away from family. I didn’t dig any further than I needed to. Anything else, I figured you’d tell me if and when you wanted to. It’s not my job to know every detail about your life.”

“Okay,” Jason says, too casually.

“Dick, there’s gotta be a place just as good with three bedrooms.”

“There’s really not, not at a comfortable price. The others on my list aren’t nearly as good as this one, or are way too expensive.”

“But I could–”

“Do not bring that up again.” His firm tone has Tim snapping his mouth shut.

“This one is safe and practical,” Dick says. “Can we all agree?”

“Sure.”

“Fine.”

“Great! Vanessa, bring over those papers, I’m ready to sign!”

Vanessa practically squeals.

Jason turns to Tim. “You gonna be okay sharing a room with me?”

“Yeah, man,” Tim answers, trying to sound more confident than he feels. He really doesn’t know. He hates this already. “No problem.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments give me life and that sweet sweet validation we poor writers crave


	3. 1.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason looks around his old home…
> 
> And says goodbye to the ghosts there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just cannot sit on chapters lol and I can't believe how fast I'm writing this story!! Okay I hope you enjoy this

Jason shifts. The bench is so hard and they’ve been sitting in this hallway for what feels like forever and his ass is going numb. People in suits and uniforms walk by, drinking coffee or chatting about cases and clients.

He could really use a smoke.

“You okay?” Dick asks.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Sorry it’s boring. I wish I’d thought to bring something to do.”

That would have been nice. Jason’s been making pictures from the scratches in the hardwood floor, like constellations. “Like what?”

He shrugs. The old bench creaks as he turns more toward Jason, raising his right foot to rest on top of his left knee. “Cards, maybe. You know how to play poker?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you could’ve taught me.”

“You don’t know how to play?” That’s surprising. For some reason Dick seems like he knows everything.

“It never came up. Who taught you?”

This is the first time Dick’s asked about his past. He considers not saying anything, but it’s easy to answer. “There was this old Mexican woman who lived across the hall, back when my mom was still around. She used to watch me sometimes. Señora Ovila taught me lots of stuff. Poker, cooking, sewing, cursing…”

“Cursing?”

“In Spanish. She tried to teach me conversational Spanish too but I was mostly interested in the bad words.”

Dick laughs. “I was too, but Bruce made me learn all the boring stuff.”

He does know everything. “It comes in handy. Sometimes I wish I’d paid better attention to her.”

“I could teach you.”

“You’re busy, with work and stuff.”

“I can make time.”

Jason’s already taking so much, he doesn’t need more. He shifts again, uncomfortable because of more than the bench. He feels very small, and yet like he’s taking up way too much space.

“How are things at the manor?” Dick asks.

Alfred gets him anything he might need even when he hasn’t asked for it. Bruce acts warm and open but Jason doesn’t really buy it. He got lost his first day there; he drew a map between the library and kitchen and his room. Outside is just grass and trees and flowers and silence; he can’t remember ever being without the sounds of the city before. Jason wants to get out of that place as soon as possible. “Fine.”

He’s pretty sure Dick can tell he’s lying, but he doesn’t want to talk about it and seem ungrateful so he changes the subject. “Tim’s not really your brother, is he. I saw a lot of photos of you around the house but none of him.”

There’s a long moment before Dick answers, “Tim wasn’t there for very long before he came to live with me.”

“Why was he at Bruce’s in the first place?”

“It’s not really my place to tell you about that.”

“Well why did he leave?”

Another pause. Dick looks very angry, and then he covers it up. “Bruce put Tim in a dangerous situation and he got hurt. I didn’t think it was safe for him to stay there.”

“But I’m staying there, wha–”

“Not for much longer though,” he interrupts. Dick smiles. “Don’t worry. I can’t get into it, but you’ll be okay until we get this all sorted out, which should be soon,” he says, glancing at his watch.

Just then a uniform walks over. “Hey, Grayson.”

Dick smiles up at the man. “Smithy. What’s up?”

“I’m here to take the kid into the judge’s office.”

“Oh! Okay,” Dick says to Jason, “you go with Smith and I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

The bailiff shows Jason into an office down the hall and tells him to wait. A few minutes later a man enters and sits behind the desk. “Hello, Jason. I’m Judge Roberts.”

“Hello.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” Dick had said they were coming to court to get the paperwork finalised. Jason didn’t know he’d have to do anything other than stand there.

“I just wanted to talk to you before I sign off on this,” the judge says, holding up a thick folder. “Before I approve Mr. Grayson to be your legal guardian I want to hear from you whether or not that’s really what you want.”

“Why, is- is there something wrong with him? Should I not want this?” Please, please say no, please say–

“No, no. Nothing like that. I always do this, to make sure the child is comfortable with the situation.”

Jason lets out a relieved breath. “Oh, okay. Then yes, I’m sure.”

“And you’re not being forced or coerced into this?”

“No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so. He seems like a good man. Has a solid record with the GCPD and Captain Gordon gave him a great character testimony.”

“That’s… good.” It is good. Dick is good.

“Well then let me just…” He flips to the last page and scribbles out a signature. “There. It’s official. You, young man, are now in the custody of Richard Grayson.”

Jason doesn’t know how he feels right now. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. A few days ago he was psyching himself up to suck a dick for cash and now he’s got a home in the Upper West Side and someone– someone _good–_ willing to take care of him.

Back in the hallway Judge Roberts shakes Dick’s hand.

Dick looks so happy.

Maybe that’s what Jason feels: happy.

But also terrified.

~

Part of him is waiting for Dick to turn around and say, _Gotcha! This was all a joke, get out of here!_ But instead Dick just points at the display bunk beds and asks, “What do you think?”

“I thought you were kidding,” Tim whines. He throws himself dramatically onto a nearby mattress, bouncing twice.

“It’s practical, Tim. There’s not a whole lot of space in your bedroom. Jason? I want your honest opinion on all this stuff, it’ll be your home too.”

Honestly he’d rather have two seperate beds on either side of the room but he’s really not that picky, especially when it’s being offered to him for free. And Tim is a spoiled brat.

“It’s a great idea,” he says, enjoying the way Tim’s face falls with betrayal.

“Great! Do you want the wood one or the black metal?”

“Black.”

“Wood.”

Dick’s eyes flit between the two of them staring each other down. “Shit,” he mumbles. “This isn’t a good start, is it. Okay, why don’t you take turns? Tim can pick the bed and then Jason can pick out the dresser.”

They ignore him. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“You’re on.”

Together, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Jason holds out rock. Tim chooses scissors.

“Dammit, fine! But I’ll get the next one.”

“Sure you will. We’re getting the wood bunk beds,” Jason tells Dick with some satisfaction. Then he panics, just a little. Maybe he should’ve just kept being non-confrontational. Out of the way, as easy as possible. What if Tim throws a fit, decides he doesn’t like Jason and isn’t willing to put up with him. Obviously Dick would choose Tim over Jason, and then where would he be.

“Um.” Dick looks like he wants to object somehow, but in the end just sighs. “Okay.”

Tim stomps off in the direction of the dressers.

“He can be a little ass sometimes,” Dick says, watching him go.

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Jason.

Dick grins. “Come on, let’s see how many times you can beat him before he snaps.”

Jason hesitates. “What happens if he snaps?”

“He usually just gets all emo, puts on his headphones and sulks around for a while and won’t talk to anyone.”

“But if… if he gets mad because of me…”

“He’s a twelve year-old boy, he gets mad at everything.” Dick rubs his temples and for the first time that Jason’s seen he looks really tired. “Now I have two of you little monsters.”

Jason carefully doesn’t make any noise that would draw attention to himself.

_You little monster! You’re just takin’ up all my money. Why don’t you go out there and do somthin’ fuckin’ useful for once!_

Dick drops his hands. “It’ll be okay. Let’s– hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His voice shakes. He hopes Dick will just let it go like all the other times.

He doesn’t.

“Jason…” He sits down on a display mattress. His hand twitches like he wants to reach out and touch him, but he holds himself back. He does that a lot. Jason appreciates it. “Look, I don’t want to push you to talk to me if you’re not ready, but there are some things I should know. I need to know what might upset you so that I won’t do or say the wrong thing.”

Jason nods. It makes sense. It makes sense but the thought of ripping himself open for Dick to see all of the ways he’s been hurt, of telling someone exactly the worst ways to scare him… The thought is horrifying.

“Maybe this isn’t the best place to get into it,” Dick admits, glancing around the store. “But soon. Can you promise me we’ll talk soon?”

“Yeah… Soon.” If soon is never.

“Good,” Dick says, even though he can clearly tell Jason is lying. “And sorry, for implying I don’t want to have you. This is gonna be hard on all three of us from time to time, but even if I get mad at you or Tim, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna kick you out or anything. Alright?”

Jason swallows. He wants to hear that again. He wants it recorded, written down so he can go back and read it over and over. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Dick stands. “Okay we need to find Tim before he gets fed up and just leaves without us.”

When they find Tim he’s sitting on top of a dark wood dresser, dangling feet swaying from side to side. It has two rows of four drawers, one side for each of them.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

They don’t really need to, Jason likes this one. But he can’t let Tim win that easily.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Tim holds out rock. Jason, paper.

“Fuck!”

“Hey, let’s keep some of the more vulgar obscenities down in public,” Dick says. “Now where’s a sales rep… Over there. Which dresser are we getting, Jason?”

He points to the one Tim picked.

“Are you kidding me?” Tim throws his hands in the air.

Dick laughs.

~

Jason’s only known Dick and Tim for a little over a week when he moves in with them. Though it’s not really moving, at least for him, because he doesn’t have much of anything to move into the apartment other than one bag of clothes Alfred had bought for him. Except… there is stuff he left behind. Most of it’s trash, not important, especially not when Dick is willing to buy him whatever he needs, but there are a couple of things he wants. Or, one thing. He hasn’t had a chance to go back to Crime Alley since he’s been in the manor all the way over in Bristol, but he could go now. He should go now, it’s possible someone’s already found the hole he was squatting in and did God knows what with his stuff. Maybe while he’s there he can grab a cigarette.

Dick and Tim are lifting a bookcase out of the moving truck. As soon as they carry it inside the building Jason can sneak off. He sets down the box he was going to take up and when they’re through the door he starts walking down the sidewalk.

“Jason?”

He stops. Turns.

“Where are you going?” Dick asks.

It’s like he has eyes in the back of his head. Or a sixth sense for bullshit. Maybe because he’s a cop? They train for that sort of thing, right?

“Uh, nowhere.”

He crosses his arms. “Please don’t lie to me, Jason.”

Jason’s heart rate picks up. “I just– I have to go back and get something.”

“From Bruce’s?”

“No. From… from my place on Park Row.” Dick’s eyebrows shoot up. “It’s important,” Jason stresses.

“Okay.”

“I– really? I can just go?” Jason asks incredulously.

“Well, I’m going with you. I can’t just let you go back there by yourself, it isn’t safe. But if you need, I’ll take you. You’re not a prisoner here, Jason.”

“You know I lived there my whole life,” he can’t help but point out. “I’d be okay on my own.”

“That’s nice,” Dick answers arily. “I’ll take you over there when we’re done here. For now, we need some help with the bookcase.”

In the afternoon Jason rides with Dick to return the moving truck to the rental place. After, they take the train across the city to Crime Alley.

At the corner of 14th street Dick waves to the guy selling falafels, “Heya, Hector!” and gets a curt nod.

The sun is starting to set. Jason tugs his jacket in tighter. “You didn’t bring your gun,” he notices.

“I don’t carry it unless I’m on duty.”

“Even down here? Since it’s _so unsafe_ ,” he says, a little mockingly.

Dick just rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for trying to keep you from getting hurt. And I don’t need a gun to be able to do that.”

They get to the condemned building he used to live in with his parents, back when it was only almost condemned. The doors are all chained shut but Jason hops onto a crate underneath a window he’d managed to jimmy open. He checks and, “No one’s been in here since I left. My string is still on the sill.”

“Smart,” Dick says appreciatively.

Jason hides a smile. “You can stay out here. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t want Dick to see what it’s like inside, and luckily he nods after a moment. “Call for me if you need me.”

Popping the window open, Jason climbs through. Inside is musty and lit by the dim light shining through dirty windows. He can navigate this place even in the dark, stepping around weak spots in the floor. Down the hall on the left is where he called home: a bare mattress on the ground and a small burner he’d rigged together. There are a few tattered books and a Rolling Stones poster but none that is what he’s here for.

He picks up the picture frame. His mom smiles up at him.

She’d be happy, right? If she could see that he’s leaving this place for good. It’s where she raised him. It’s where she died. He’s stayed here to stay with her… but she’s gone. He needs to be gone too.

He’s moving on.

He finds the pack he’d left sitting on top of a cinder block. Inside are four cigarettes and a little blue lighter. He lights one, leaning back against peeling wallpaper.

Jason looks around his old home…

And says goodbye to the ghosts there.

Outside Dick asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah. I did.”

~

Jason and Tim are standing in their new bedroom. It has one small closet and one window. Two twin mattresses are propped up against the wall next to some boxes with _Tim_ scrawled on the sides in red marker. In front of them is the box containing the pieces that will be their bed after they assemble it. Dick had told them to build it together.

With a pocket knife Tim slices open the box. He picks up the directions and frowns. “It’s just pictures.”

“Huh?”

“Look, there’s no writing.”

“Oh. That’s pretty smart.”

“How is that smart?”

“Not everyone can read, or understand English,” Jason explains, pulling out the pieces. He sorts and stacks the different shapes and sizes. “This way, anyone can put it together, no problem.”

“Hm. Okay first step is… I need the long board and the medium board.”

“There’s six long boards. And which size do you mean by _medium_ , because there’s a lot of different ones here.”

“The one in the picture has two holes on the bottom.”

“On the left side?”

“Right.”

“The right side?”

“No, left.”

“You just said right.”

“I meant–” Tim finally looks up from the paper and at the pieces. He points. “Just give me that one.”

“Can I see the instructions?”

“Why? I’ll just tell you what I need.”

“I’m not your caddy,” Jason snaps. “Let me help.”

Tim tosses the booklet at him. “While you’re getting caught up I’ll be screwing these boards together.” Grabbing the baggie of screws and the screwdriver, Tim gets to work.

God, he’s a bitch.

Jason scans the pictograph. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. That one’s upside-down.”

“What?”

“See here,” Jason kneels down next to him on the carpet, “This ridge should be on the bottom.”

Tim looks at the page carefully… and then takes out the screws he just put in, jaw clenching.

Jason examines the next step and picks out the piece they’ll need. When Tim’s done he moves into place and takes the screwdriver.

“I call bottom bunk,” Tim says.

“What? We haven’t even finished building it yet.”

Tim shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I can’t call it.”

“You can’t just say you want something and expect to get it.” He considers that for a second. “Well. Maybe _you_ can. It’s probably what you’re used to.”

“First of all, that’s literally how _dibs_ works. I called it, it’s mine. Second,” Tim says, hands on his hips, “I don’t get everything I want. I wanted the black bed frame and I didn’t get that.”

“Was that the first time in your life? Because you’re acting like it.”

“I’m not some spoiled rich kid!”

“Yes, you are,” Jason argues as he stands up. Tim’s been shitty toward him all week and he’s had enough. “You’re a brat and I don’t need you bossing me around, acting like you know everything.”

“I know more than you think.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I saw–”

“Guys?” Dick’s standing in the doorway. He takes in their angry faces and curled fists. His lips press together unhappily. “We need to have a chat. In the living room.”

Neither of them move, Tim probably out of defiance and Jason because he’s frozen. He did something bad, Dick caught him doing something bad. He messed up and Dick is mad at him. He’s been doing such a good job at keeping himself in check every time he gets mad, why did he have to–

“ _Now_.”

He flinches, fighting the urge to raise his arms protectively. He doesn’t need to, right? Dick Grayson isn’t Willis Todd. Dick Grayson is a good man. He won’t hurt him.

But Jason doesn’t _know_ that, does he. He hasn’t seen what Dick does when he’s angry.

Tim doesn’t seem afraid. He just drops the instructions and storms out of the room, leaving them alone.

“It’s okay,” Dick says, more gently. “We just need to talk about a few things. Come on.”

Jason goes.

“You two sit on the couch.”

They drop onto cushions on opposite sides. Jason feels like his organs are going to shake themselves down into a liquid form and then fall right out his ass.

Dick stands in front of them, arms crossed. “Alright. First of all, I’m resigning myself to there being some yelling around here. Just try to keep it down enough to not piss off the neighbors.

“Second, remember that I’m new at this. I went from having zero kids to two in a matter of months. I’m still learning, but I’m trying my best, so please be patient with me.

“I’m not _your kid_.”

Jason holds his breath, waiting for… something. But Dick doesn’t move. He just says,

“Tim, shut up and stop being an asshole for no reason.”

“I’m not!”

Dick raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Then tell me your amazing reason for being an asshole.”

“I was trying to say I’m not being an asshole.”

“You’ve been a brat for days, buddy.”

“Everyone needs to stop telling me that!” Tim yells. “I’m not an asshole and I’m not a spoiled brat!”

“Well you sure aren’t being a helpful ray of sunshine.”

Tim looks away, pouting.

Dick closes his eyes for a long moment. “What I brought you guys out here to talk about is this: I know this is a weird situation, and it’s hard on everyone, but we need to try and find a way to live together without killing each other. You need to be friends, or at least civil. You were only in that room for ten minutes before you started fighting. Are you listening,Tim?”

A grunt.

“If you have a problem you need to _talk_ about it,” Dick continues. “I know that’s not an easy thing for any of us, but it’s important. And I know you boys are right at that age where your hormones are going crazy and–”

“Oh god,” Tim groans, and Jason cringes too. “Are you gonna give us _the talk?_ ”

Dick says, “Not today,” with a sour face, the implication being he will one day, and Jason kind of wants to die. “I’m just saying twelve and thirteen year-old boys act ridiculous and part of it isn’t your fault. You’re all just a little bit crazy for a few years. But try your best to reign in the irrational anger, for all of our sakes. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“Such enthusiasm. I love it.” Dick claps his hands once. “Alright, it’s late and it’s a school night so I’m gonna help you get your beds set up so you can go to sleep.”

Jason breathes.

~

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Yes!” Tim pumps his fist triumphantly. “Finally! Bottom bunk is mine.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Congratulations.”

When Tim goes to take his turn in the shower Jason grabs the taser Dick had given him the night they met and and the picture frame from where he’d tucked them away in his jacket and climbs up into bed. He lies down underneath a brand new blanket on his brand new mattress and lays his mom down next to him, the taser under his pillow like he’s had it for over a week. He doesn’t really think he’ll need to use it, but the thought of not having it is really scary.

Tim comes back and turns off the light. Jason hears him fall into bed. Hears a sigh and a reluctant, “Good night.”

“‘Night.”

It’s uncomfortable. He isn’t used to sleeping in the same room with another person. Every time Tim moves Jason is overly aware of him down there. Jason rolls over. The whole bed creaks. Tim can definitely hear him too.

He didn’t sleep well at the manor because everything about that place was strange and foreign to him. This apartment isn’t as weird but still he thinks it’ll take a long time before he’s able to sleep well here, if ever.

But he’s warm and full of the pizza Dick had ordered for them and that’s worth putting up with the awkwardness with Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for the comments, your feedback really is very important and helpful to me <3


	4. 1.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Great.” Tim eats his cereal moodily.
> 
> Dick didn’t know one could eat cereal moodily.
> 
> He hopes mornings won’t always be like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little concerned y'all wouldn't like how I'm writing Tim, but apparently y'all love him being a little brat lol or at least understand why he's acting that way, so that's great. He's gonna be like that for a little while longer. But this chapter is mostly some good Dick/Jason interaction :)) Also Babs makes her first appearance! Yay!

Dick hears the faint beeping of Tim’s alarm going off for fifteen seconds and then it stops. A minute later Jason wanders out into the living room where Dick is hanging from a pull-up bar in the doorway to his own bedroom, in the middle of a set. Jason squints at him, eyes still droopy from sleep. “What the hell are you doing,” he mumbles groggily. 

“Exercising!” 

“You do remember there’s a gym downstairs.”

“Why go all the way down there?” Dick drops from the bar. “Is Tim getting up?”

“Um, he rolled over and put his pillow over his head, so…” Jason trails off, shrugging. 

Dick opens his mouth to shout at Tim to wake up, but he’s noticed Jason reacts badly to raised voices so he walks over to their room. “Get up, Tim,” he tells the lump in the bottom bunk. 

The lump makes a sort of noise that reminds Dick of that time he had to swing a pig to safety. 

Back in the kitchen Jason is tentatively inspecting the mostly bare pantry. Dick wishes he could say it’s that way because they haven’t unpacked yet, but that’s about how it always is. 

“Do you want breakfast? We have cereal and… cereal. Oh! And Poptarts.” Dick scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry. We don’t cook much.”

Grabbing a pack of strawberry Poptarts Jason asks, “Can I have this?”

“Have whatever you want,” he assures him. Dick checks on Tim– still wrapped up in a blanket cocoon. “Tim, if you’re not up in five minutes I’m getting the spray bottle.”

Dick goes into his room to get changed out of his sleepy-time sweats. When he comes out Jason is gone and Tim is glaring at the closed bathroom door. 

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Stop pouting, you can wait five minutes.” 

Tim rolls his eyes and heads for the pantry. “Wait, where are the strawberry Poptarts? I had one left and it’s gone.” 

Jason walks out of the bathroom. 

“You!” Tim accuses, pointing. “Did you take my last Poptart?”

“I–” Jason glances at Dick, eyes wide. 

“Calm down, Tim,” Dick sighs. “I told him he could have it.”

“The thought of that strawberry Poptart was literally the only thing that got me out of bed this morning.”

“I’ll buy you more later, drama king. Now eat some cereal and get ready for school. We’ve got to leave soon.”

“‘We’?” 

“I’m taking Jason to get enrolled. You can ride with us.”

“Great.” Tim eats his cereal moodily. 

Dick didn’t know one could eat cereal moodily. 

He hopes mornings won’t always be like this.

~

When they pull into a parking space at the junior high school Tim practically falls out of the car and into the sea of students entering the building the second Dick turns off the car.

“Class doesn’t start for ten minutes,” Dick says to himself. He pokes his head out the window and calls, “Remember, I’m going back to work tonight so I need you home before dark.”

Tim waves over his shoulder. 

Dick yells, “I love you!”

Tim hurries (runs) through the front door. 

“I think he’s embarrassed of me,” Dick tells Jason, turning to grin at him in the back seat. “Can’t imagine why.”

Jason asks, “Is that curfew? ‘Before dark’?”

“Generally, yeah, on days that I work. I don’t want to have to be worrying about you while I’m on the job. It’s easier to know you’re safe at home.” Before Jason can protest that he’s capable of taking care of himself, Dick opens the door. “You ready for this?” 

Jason steps out of the car and together they walk to the school. Dick has only been here once, for a parent/teacher night at the beginning of the semester a couple of weeks ago. All of Tim’s teachers had said the same thing: he’s smart but unmotivated. Dick’s been trying to figure out a way to get Tim to care about his grades. Hopefully he won’t have to worry about that with Jason; he seems really eager to do well here. 

On the way through the parking lot someone calls his name and Dick turns to see Kelly Lin, a fellow beat cop from his precinct. She walks over to them, pulling a boy alongside. “Hey, Grayson.”

“Lin. How’s it going?”

“Good, good. Is this Tim?” she asks, glancing at Jason. 

“Oh, uh. No, this is Jason. Jason, this is Kelly. I work with her.”

“That’s–  _ oh _ .” Kelly’s eyes go wide. Dick hadn’t wanted everyone to know that he’d taken home a kid from Park Row– he just didn’t want it to be made into a big deal. But inevitably, seeing as he works in a building full of detectives, someone had figured out something happened when Dick cut short his patrol that night and subsequently asked to have his shifts covered for over a week. He’s also pretty sure someone took a peek at his report for that night; he wouldn’t have included Jason in the report but he knew it would help when becoming Jason’s guardian for the court to be able to see an official statement of how they met. As a result, the whole precinct knows about Jason and the circumstances under which Dick found him. Including Kelly. She quickly pastes on a cheerful smile. “It’s nice to meet you Jason. Are you…”

Dick says, “We’re here to enroll him.” 

“That’s great! That’s just wonderful,” Kelly says with far too much enthusiasm and Dick internally begs her to cool it down five notches. “Maybe you’ll have some classes with Freddy!” She tugs at the arm of the boy beside her, who glances over at Jason disinterestedly. 

“Yeah, that’d be… good. Sorry, Lin, but we have an appointment with the vice principal, so…” Dick thumbs over his shoulder. 

“Oh! Of course, good luck, Jason! See you later, Grayson.” 

Dick nods his goodbye and they continue on. Inside he finds the office and approaches the front desk, Jason trailing after him. “Hello,” he greets the receptionist, “I have an appointment with Vice Principal Wheeler, my name is Dick–”

“Grayson,” The woman finishes for him with a smile. “Yes, I remember you. Timothy Drake’s brother, right?”

He’s sure he didn’t introduce himself as Tim’s brother at the parent/teacher meeting, but people tend to label them that way, and it’s easier to just go along with it rather than try and explain the situation. And besides, he doesn’t mind being thought of as Tim’s brother. “Um, yes, that’s me. And this is Jason.” 

“Hi,” she says, but she barely glances at him. To Dick, “I’ll let Mr. Wheeler know you’re here. In the meantime you can take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“Must be nice,” Jason mumbles once they’re out of earshot, “to have people fawning all over you all the time.”

“Actually it’s not.”

Jason looks like he doesn’t believe him. 

“Sometimes it can be useful,” Dick amends. “But no, it’s not as great as you think.” 

“Tim told me you get free pie.”

“Well, that’s one of the times it’s useful.” 

“If you don’t like it then why do you flirt with everyone?”

“I don’t flirt with everyone.”

Again, with the disbelief. 

“Honestly, most of the time I’m not trying to. I’m just a charming guy. Too charming for my own good,” he says sadly, shaking his head. 

Jason rolls his eyes. 

“Mr. Grayson?” 

“Mr. Wheeler.” Dick stands and shakes the man’s hand. So does Jason, and it’s only the second time he’s seen him touch anybody, the first being when he shook Bruce’s hand. Jason lets go quickly; he doesn’t like it. The vice principal and Bruce are both people who could either hurt or help him. He’s ingratiating himself. 

Dick smiles. He knew he liked this kid.

“Jason Todd.”

“Good to meet you, Jason. Why don’t we talk in my office?” 

Wheeler sits behind his desk and folds his hands in front of him. “I understand you’re looking to enroll Jason? In what grade?”

“That’s the problem,” Dick explains. “We’re not sure. Jason hasn’t been to school in… a while.” 

“Why not?” 

Next to him, Jason tenses. 

Dick says, “I don’t think that’s important.” Wheeler starts to protest but Dick just smiles. “The reason is nothing that would affect his performance or behavior as a student here. We were just hoping he could take a placement test and see where to put him from there.” 

The vice principals’ mustache twitches, but he nods. “Very well. Are you ready to take the test today?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“I’ll have Miss Park set it up then. The test should take a few hours. Mr. Grayson, you’re welcome to wait here or come back to pick him up when he’s finished. We’ll review the results of the test tomorrow.”  He stands and leaves. “Susan, I need you to…”

Dick looks at Jason. “I’m going to go run some errands, unless you don’t want me to leave?”

Twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers he says, “I don’t need you to stay.” 

“Okay. Good luck, buddy.” He resists the urge to clap him on the shoulder. 

~

Dick loves the Gotham City Library. It’s old and huge and beautiful and, most importantly, Babs works here. 

She’s at the desk, facing away from him, stamping books. Her red hair shines in the light coming through the high, stained-glass windows.

He leans against the counter. 

“You still have a book overdue from three years ago,” she says, not turning around. “Do you know how much the late fee racks up for that?”

“By now it’s gotta be more than the book is worth.”

“Excuse me, every book is priceless.” Barbara turns to face him. She smiles. “Hey there.” 

“Hi, Babs.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a library,” he points out, spreading his hands. “One might assume I’m here for books.”

“Not one that knows you.”

“That’s not fair, I read that one book three years ago.”

“And look how that turned out.”

Dick grins. “Do you have a break soon? I want to talk to you.”

Pushing aside the stacked books, she moves to stand closer to Dick. “Is this about the boy?”

“Did B tell you?” 

“My dad did. He knows we’re friends, thought you might come to me eventually– and look at that: here you are.” 

“He’s a wise man.”

“He’s the one who’s actually raised a child, maybe you should be getting advice from him instead.” 

Dick had thought about it, but as much as he respects Jim Gordon he isn’t comfortable enough around him to open up about all of his fears and insecurities. “Yeah, but he’s not as nice to look at.”

“Dick Grayson, did you just imply my worth is rooted in my physical appearance?” Babs asks, eyebrows raised imperiously behind her dark-rimmed glasses. 

“Your worth is the same as these books.” Dick leans in with a smile. “Priceless.”

“Keep that up and I might just double your late charges.” Barbara flags down a passing employee. “Frank? Could you watch the counter for an hour please? Thank you.”

Leading Dick to a small, worn table in the corner she asks, “So how can I help?”

They sit close, surrounded by high shelves of books, and it feels like just the two of them in the whole world. It feels safe. “I don’t know, I’m just… feeling a little lost, and so of course I came to you.” 

She smiles, small and genuine. “Of course you did. Really though, I don’t know about raising kids.”

“But you know about people and common sense.” 

Tilting her head, she concedes, “True.”

“I feel like– I think I’ve done a pretty good job so far, but Jason still doesn’t trust me.”

“He hasn’t run off yet, right? He must trust you some.”

“I know, but he won’t talk to me.” 

“It hasn’t even been two weeks yet, Dickie,” she says, and it’s not gentle or soft. It carries the weight of just how much of an idiot she thinks he’s being. “Be patient.”

“But how patient can I afford to be? If he keeps everything inside it’ll poison him. With Tim, when he’s upset he retreats further into himself until I provoke him enough, and then he yells at me about whatever it is that’s bothering him. Not the best system, I know,” he says, holding up a hand. “I still need to figure that one out. But Jason has a lot of pride in the way. He sees himself as self-sufficient because he’s had to be, and he gets uncomfortable when I do anything for him. He only accepts help if you pretty much force it on him, but he also gets scared of anything too forceful.”

“I think all you can do right now is make yourself available and push when you think you can get away with it, but then back off easily. He just needs to know you’re there.”

“He still thinks I’m going to get rid of him the second he does something wrong. He’s still scared of me. I don’t want him to to have to be scared all the time.”

“After he does something wrong and you don’t kick him out, maybe he won’t feel that way anymore. You’ll figure this out. I have faith in you. You’ve been dealing with scared and traumatised people for years.”

“Not long-term though. I know when to not touch them, how to make them feel safe, what questions to ask to get information even though they aren’t thinking straight. I think I’ve reached the end of my skill set. This is more than that.”

Barbara hums thoughtfully. “How is Tim dealing with it?”

“Oh god.” Dick rubs his eyes. “Tim’s being… I mean, it could be worse, but honestly I don’t think Tim really understands the situation. He doesn’t get why this is happening, why I’m doing this. He’s having his world changed  _ again _ , and lately when his world changes it’s because of something bad,” moving in with Bruce after his parents’ death, Dick taking him away from Bruce for letting him get hurt, “so I think he’s seeing Jason as something bad. We were just starting to settle into a routine together, and now it’s all different again.”

“Give him time to settle into a new routine and see that Jason isn’t bad.” Babs covers his hand with her own. “You’re doing great, Dick. Already you’ve done more for both of them than anyone else has.”

Dick flips his hand so he can hold hers. It feels like home. “Thanks, Babs.” 

“Anytime, Boy Wonder.”

He grins. “It’s Man Wonder now.”

“Is it? The only uniform I’ve seen you in lately is the one with a badge.”

“You’ve been watching me, have you?”

She shrugs, her ponytail swinging loftily behind her. “Batgirl heard chatter about this really cute beat cop that walks Crime Alley. Frankly, she wasn’t too impressed.”

“Ouch.” Dick slaps a hand over his heart.

“So will she not be seeing Nightwing again?”

“Well, as it turns out, when you have a kid or two at home and an actual job, you don’t have time or energy for the vigilante business.”

“Technically Bruce had those things.”

“It’s different when you’re not willing to bring your kid with you into the line of fire. Also, I don’t think Bruce has actually done any work at W. E. in years. For now, Nightwing is taking the backseat. Tim and Jason are more important.” 

Barbara smiles, squeezing his hand. “Yes, they are. I’m proud of you.”

Dick has known he’s doing the right thing, but to have someone say it, out loud, and for that person to be someone he loves and respects so much… he feels validated. Fortified. He feels like he can get himself and his boys through this. 

~

When Dick comes back to pick Jason up he finds him waiting in the front office, slumped in a chair. “Hey, how’d it go?” 

Not taking his eyes off the floor, Jason says, “Fine, can we go?” and he’s through the door before Dick has a chance to answer.

“Goodbye, Dick!”

“Bye, Susan,” he calls back distractedly as he follows Jason out. In the car he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jason bites out, attention focused on the trees outside, leg bouncing rapidly. 

Can he push here? “Jason, remember how I said we need to talk about it when we’re upset? It won’t do you any good to just be mad in your head.”

“I’m not  _ mad _ ,” he says angrily, picking at his fingernails. “I’m… There was so much stuff I didn’t know.”

Dick manages to hold back from high-fiving himself. He’s not happy that Jason’s upset, of course, but he’s talking to Dick about it. This is great. “If you knew everything on the test there’d be no point for you to go to school, right? We’d just send you off to college.”

Jason shakes his head sharply. “I probably got it all wrong. I dropped out of  _ fifth grade _ , Dick. What if they send me all the way back to elementary school? I’ll be the only teenager there!”

“If that happens, you’ll go and learn really fast and test out. But I really don’t think it’s as bad as that. You’re a smart kid, Jason.” 

“It doesn’t matter if I’m smart,” he argues. “Yeah, I can figure out how to do something on my own, and I can learn fast and remember what you say, but they don’t test that here. They ask about dates and equations and definitions I haven’t learned yet. They don’t care that I can take apart a radio and put it back together, they only care that I don’t know the term for the measurement of the power the radio is using.” 

Jason looks like he’s apart to shake apart inside his own skin. He actually isn’t angry, Dick realises. The kid is panicking. 

“Can you really do that?” Dick asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool.”

Jason beats his fist against his thigh one, two, three times. “I guess.” 

“I know it’s hard, but try to not sweat it too much, okay? We’ll find out how you did tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” He’s gazing out the window again, longingly, like he’s two seconds away from jumping out and sprinting down the sidewalk. Dick needs to try to distract him. 

“Hey, you wanna go do something fun?”

“Like what?”

Dick grins and throws the car into drive. “Trust me.”

And now Jason looks half of a second away from diving out the door. Dick berates himself. Baby steps. Jason needs to know exactly what’s happening to him. He’s said as much before, and the past two weeks have been filled with unknowns. He doesn’t trust Dick enough to go along with anything, especially when he’s already on the edge.  

“I want to take you to a gym.”

Jason frowns. “There’s one in our building. Are we gonna work out?”

“Not that kind of gym, one for gymnastics. Are you any good on a trampoline?”

“I haven’t been on a trampoline.”

“Do you want to try? Whenever I’m upset or need a distraction, what works for me is doing backflips into a foam pit.” Or off a skyscraper, but that’s a no-go for Jason. 

“Don’t you have something more important to do?” 

“This is important.” 

Jason does that thing where he curls in on himself, trying to be as small as possible. Like he could somehow disappear and make Dick forget he exists. 

Dick tries a different tactic. “I mean, I was planning on going there anyway, so if you want to tag along I’d be happy to have you. Or I could drive you home and then go by myself.”

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll just go with you.”

Biting back a grin, Dick drives. He switches on the radio and flips around the stations until a fun pop song plays. After that one ends he finds another, and another, keeping the music bright and peppy until they pull up to the gym. When they walk inside he’s immediately hit with the smell of feet and foam mats and chalk and sweat. It’s great. He pokes his head inside one of the front offices where a man wearing a t-shirt tucked into his sweatpants is holding up a sparkly leotard with a critical eye. 

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Dickie! Hey, what do you think of this?” He turns the leotard around to show the front.

“Looks good. Screams,  _ winners _ .”

Bobby grins. “It does, doesn’t it. My girls are taking state this time.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“So what’s up,” asks Bobby, who drops the sparkly thing back into a box full of others. “Who’s your friend?”

Dick glances beside him, at Jason standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. “This is Jason. I wanted to show him around. Is there a station free?”

“Let me check…” he grabs a clipboard from his desk and scans the page. “The back half is open until Tilly’s group comes in at three. Right now we just have the tots, so they’re just taking up the floor.” 

“Perfect, thanks. See ya.”

“Yup!”

“Okay,” Dick says excitedly, heading for the big, glass double doors that open to the gymnasium proper. He checks his watch. “We have the pit to ourselves for three hours.”  

Just inside is a wall of cubbies, in which Dick and Jason put their shoes and jackets. There’s a class of toddlers off to the side being taught how to somersault. Dick waves to the instructor as they walk by. They pass the beams and the bars and the pommel horse. What they want is in the far back corner: the trampoline set into the floor and next to it, the pit filled in with blocks of multi-colored foam. 

Dick breaks off into a run, hits the trampoline at full speed and launches himself into the air, flipping a few times and then landing on his back with a soft thud in the foam chunks. It’s not as viscerally satisfying as diving off a rooftop, but he hasn’t had a chance to do that in weeks and this will have to do for now. He looks up at the ceiling high above him, and then over to where Jason is standing at the edge. Dick rolls himself over to the side and pulls himself out. 

“You wanna give it a try?” 

Apprehensive, Jason glances at the trampoline. “What do I do?” 

“Whatever you want. You can just jump around for a while first, get a feel for it.” 

“Did you take gymnastics as a kid or something?” Jason asks as he tentatively steps onto the stretchy black surface.  

Dick jumps back on too, giving enough room so that his movement won’t disturb Jason and unbalance him; the trampoline is long enough to take up most of the back wall. “I was raised in the circus.”

“Oh, yeah I knew that.” Jason bounces. It’s not surprising that he knows. Most of the city knows about Dick’s past. The papers don’t report on him much any more, but at the time Gothamites loved the story of playboy-turn-philanthropist Bruce Wayne taking in the poor orphaned circus boy. “So I guess you kept at it even after… after you moved in with Bruce.”

“Bruce made sure I kept in practise,” Dick answers neutrally, but part of him is bitter about it. He’s glad he was able to keep that part of his life, but he can’t help but wonder: would Bruce still have helped him learn so much if he hadn’t been Robin? Would Bruce have put in the time if it didn’t benefit himself and his work as Batman? 

Jason jumps, then a little higher, and higher. 

“Fling yourself into the pit,” Dick suggests. “It’s fun.” 

Putting all of his energy into pushing off against the trampoline, Jason throws his body into the air and lands on the foam. He tries to right himself and falls over.

Dick laughs. “You want help?” Sending him a middle finger, Jason continues to struggle his way out. Dick watches him flounder around for a minute and eventually yells, “Roll to the side!”

Jason listens, pulls himself out of the pit and quickly jumps back onto the trampoline and then into the pit again. 

They spend the next hour there, Dick practicing his acrobatics and Jason throwing himself around until he’s too tired to keep going, eventually collapsing on a mat, sweaty hair clinging to his face while Dick’s breathing is only slightly labored. But even slightly is too much, he’s getting soft without nightly patrols– at least, the kind that don’t take place on ground level. Maybe he can go out one night soon when he has work off… It should be fine to slip out after the boys are asleep. Maybe could call up Batgirl for some company.

“Ready to go?” he asks the wheezing boy on the floor. 

“Yeah.” With a grunt Jason heaves himself up to standing. “Do you need to pick up Tim from school?”

“He walks. He only rode with me today because we were going there anyway. Soon you two will walk to school together!” 

Jason frowns but doesn’t say anything, too exhausted to argue. 

Well. That’s better than panicking. Right? 

~

On Thursday Dick and Jason are sitting in the vice principal’s office again. Mr. Wheeler taps his fountain pen on the papers in front of him. “It’s a tricky thing. His age would normally put him with the eighth grade class, but his scores on the science, math, and history sections fall below the criteria need for that. On the other hand, the results of the reading comprehension and writing sections place him in high school.”

“So where does that leave us?” Dick asks. 

“My suggestion,” he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “is for Jason to join the seventh grade class. He is eligible for the Advanced Placement literature class, and for a short time he could benefit from tutoring in the other area.”

“That sounds good.” Dick is pleasantly surprised. Two and a half years out of school and he’s only behind one grade. He tells Jason, “You’d be in the same grade as Tim. You could have classes together.”

Jason bites his lip. “I’d need tutoring.” 

“I don’t believe it would take long to catch up. He’s a bright boy,” Wheeler tells Dick. “Looking at his work on some of these math questions, it’s clear he was never taught how to solve a problem like this but he still managed to find the correct answer.”

“Can I see that?” asks Dick, and the vice principal hands over Jason’s test. It’s a mess, and Dick smiles at how he can see Jason’s thought process, working through the problem– a few different ways, and none of them the way that’s taught in school. He smiles– until he sees the red mark over the answer. “Wait, this is marked wrong.”

“Yes.”

“But the answer is right.”

Wheeler explains, “He solved it the wrong way.”

“How is it the wrong way if he got the answer right?” 

“The correct answer must be arrived at in the correct way. That’s what we’re looking for: whether he knows  _ how  _ to solve the problem. Which he does not.”

Dick blinks at the man in disbelief. “He knows how to solve it. He did it,” he points at the page, “right there.” 

Wheeler sighs. “But not in the manner taught according to the curriculum.” 

Dick reminds himself that this doesn’t  _ really _ matter and he shouldn’t get angry over this. It’s just a placement test, and Jason’s being placed at a reasonable level. They’ll get him a tutor and Jason will learn the  _ right way _ and it’ll all be fine. Handing the test back and ignoring all of the bullshit he asks, “When can he start?” 

“I have the enrollment forms right here for you.” Dick takes the folder. “It should take no more than a day or two to process him into the system. We should have a schedule ready for him by Monday.” 

Dick turns to Jason. “What do you think? Ready to start school after the weekend?” 

Jason nods. “I’m ready.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and a gallon of love to everyone who comments <33


	5. 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is his first day of school. He has to do well. He has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time; I decided to cut this part from the beginning of chapter 1.5 and just make them two separate chapters, I think it'll read better that way.

Jason isn’t familiar with the Upper West Side. It was too far away for him to walk to from Crime Alley, and he rarely had enough to spend on bus fare but when when he did it wasn’t worth the trip all the way out. There were plenty of car parts to jack in Newtown and The Bowery and Birnley. It was stupid to try and go out further than that and have to carry stolen parts all the way back. It makes him uncomfortable to be in an area he doesn’t know well. Knowing your neighborhood like the back of your hand is vital when you might have to run and hide from the cops with a hot radio in your shaking hands. Not that Jason has to worry about that anymore, but it he feels vulnerable on these unfamiliar streets. 

Not to mention the fact that he has to have Tim take him shopping because he doesn’t know where anything is. He wishes Dick could have taken him. Well, he really wishes he could go alone, but the next best thing be just him and Dick. Next best after that would be him and Dick and Tim. And then the last best thing, also known as the worst thing, and, in fact, the current thing: him and Tim alone. It’s the first time they’ve really been alone together. It sucks. 

Tim has his headphones on and the two of them haven’t spoken a word to each other since they left the apartment. Jason follows, weaving through sidewalk traffic, trusting Tim to know where to go. Eventually Tim turns into a store and then just kind of waves Jason forward like,  _ do your thing _ . At least he’s not scowling.

Jason sighs. Pushes Tim to the back of his brain. He’s here for school supplies. What does he need… Pens, paper– a backpack? He didn’t have one before, but they probably use more books and stuff in junior high. He could just carry his books, it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t really need a backpack. But what if it rains? He’ll be walking a few blocks to school and back, if the weather turns bad his books and assignments could get ruined. So he should get a backpack. Dick will understand why he spent money on one, right?

Before they left the apartment Dick had just said, “Here’s my credit card, buy whatever you need,” and then he’d gone to bed before Jason could protest or clarify what exactly that meant. 

He starts off with the basics: a pen, a spiral notebook, a binder. But how many should he get? Can he fit everything in one binder? It’s not like he’s going to get one for each class, that would be  _ six  _ binders. That’s crazy. As much as he would love to have one for each subject, maybe even each with its own color and matching folders inside… 

One large binder, stuff to write with and on, and the cheapest backpack on the rack. There. That’s not too much, right? 

He turns to Tim, who’s been trailing after him in silence. When he notices Jason’s stopped moving he glances at the stuff in Jason’s arms. He pulls down his headphones to rest around his neck and Jason can hear the beat of his music. “Is that it?” 

The way he asks, like there’s something wrong, has Jason’s eyebrows pulling down in confusion. 

“Yeah? Why… is it too much?”

“What? No, you–” Tim moves past him and starts grabbing things off the shelf. “You’ll need more pens–”

“I got a two-pack.”

“They dissapear, man. I’ve already bought like ten so far this semester.”

“I wouldn’t lose my pen,” Jason argues, slightly affronted. 

Tim ignores him. “And some pencils and red pens and highlighters–” 

“Why do I need highlighters?”

“Sometimes the teachers make you highlight shit.” When Jason looks at him quizzically he just shrugs. 

Well. It’s not like Jason doesn’t like highlighters… And Tim says he’ll need them. So that’s fine. He brushes aside the pack Tim grabbed (all yellow) in favor of the one with blue and pink and yellow after checking that it’s the same price. 

“And one of these,” Tim continues, handing him a black ruler. Jason switches it out for the green one that matches his binder. “Okay, I think that’s all we need to get you in this aisle.”

“What else are we getting?” 

“Clothes.” 

“I don’t need clothes.”

“Yes you do,” Tim answers, eyes going from Dick’s old jacket to the motor oil stains on Jason’s jeans. Jason frowns. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but you really could use some new stuff. What you have only fills up like one drawer in the dresser.”

“I don’t wanna spend too much, Dick–”

“Dick would want you to get new clothes. He said to get what you need. He probably assumed you knew what that meant.”

“Just leave it,” Jason snaps. “I’m fine.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” Jason says, even though the past twenty minutes scream otherwise.

“You don’t  _ want _ to need my help,” Tim argues. “I don’t get why this is such a problem, I’m telling you it’s fine. Do you think I’m lying just to get you in trouble? You’re acting like Dick is going to beat the shit out of you for–” Tim stops. “Oh.” 

Jason feels like he’s burning from the inside out, angry and embarrassed but there’s no reason for it. He’s not doing anything wrong, he’s just being cautious. It’d be stupid to not be careful around someone he doesn’t know. 

And yes, some part of his brain is reminding him that Dick is  _ good _ and has only been helpful and hasn’t touched him at all but another part of his brain is insisting that doesn’t _ really know _ anything. 

“Dick would never hurt you,” Tim says angrily. “He’s done nothing but help you, he took you off the street and this is how you think of him? Why don’t you try being fucking grateful instead of acting like he’s a terrible person.” 

Jason swallows roughly. “I don’t think he’s a terrible person–”

“But you expect him to start hitting you. Newsflash: that’s what terrible people do. Not what people who give you a home do.”

“My dad gave me a home too, that didn’t make him a good person, or stop him from–” Jason’s voice catches in his throat. He feels so, so vulnerable, so exposed. Tim didn’t need to know that. Tim doesn’t need to know anything, he should just mind his own business.  

“Your dad worked for Two-Face, I think we can agree he had some issues.”

“Shut up!” Jason yells.

He doesn’t. “Dick doesn’t deserve you thinking about him like that. He’s the best person in the world and if you can’t see that–” 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” says a man with a name tag announcing him a manager, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jason moves to put away the supplies he’s holding but Tim says, “We’ll leave after we buy what we came for,” somehow looking down on the man man who’s far taller and older.

The man presses his lips together in a tight line, but relents. “If you do so  _ quietly _ .” 

“Fine. Come on,” he tells Jason without even glancing in his direction, “we’re getting you new shoes at least.” 

And Jason– can’t argue with that one. He does need new shoes. His current pair of sneakers are too small and his sock can be seen through a hole in the toe. 

Tim slides his headphones back into place while Jason debates over which shoes to get. God, shoes are expensive. But he’s gonna be wearing them every day, so it’s… fine. It’s fine.

It’s  _ fine. _ Tim said so. 

Jason grabs a pair of boots one size up. They’ll last for a while. 

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge him but walks to the check-out line. When it’s their turn Jason can’t help but stare at the total, guilt and regret eating through him. He pulls Dick’s credit card out of his pocket and hesitates long enough that Tim snatches it out of his hand and swipes it himself. 

They walk home and Jason nervously waits for Dick to wake up. He doesn’t have much to do to kill the time. They just moved in, so the apartment hasn’t had a chance to really get dirty yet, and it takes less than twenty minutes to clean. He goes to the kitchen in hopes of cooking dinner, but there’s only things that don’t require much cooking: frozen dinners and boxes of mac and cheese. Tim does his homework, but Jason doesn’t have homework yet to do. He makes a mental note to track down the nearest library as soon as he can. 

In the evening when Dick comes out of his bedroom, tucking in his uniform shirt, he walks over to where Jason is sitting on the couch watching TV and asks, “So what’d you get?”

Jason shows him, everything still in the bag with tags on just in case they need to be returned. 

“Is that it?” Dick asks, the same way Tim had earlier. “Are you sure that’s all you need? I thought maybe you’d get a pair of jeans or something.”

Jason can feel Tim’s eyes on his from the kitchen, homework spread out of the table in front if him.

“But hey, I like your boots,” Dick says, picking them up. “Those are nice. You still have my card?”

“No, I– Tim has it.” 

“Okay, well if you decide you want to get anything else, just go ahead.” Dick buckles his belt into place and walks over to ruffle Tim’s hair, which earns him a swatted protest. He grabs his jacket (the one he’d let Jason wear that first night) from a hook on the wall and his keys from a bowl near the door. “You two be good, I’ll see you in the morning.”

After he’s gone there’s a brief silence and then Tim says, “Told you.”

~

Tomorrow is his first day of school. He has to do well. He  has to . 

Dick had said the house rules were to pass their classes, no drinking, no drugs, no smoking.

Jason had excused himself that one smoke when he said goodbye to Crime Alley because technically he wasn’t in the house… but he doesn’t have that excuse now as he slips out the sliding glass door onto the balcony and lights up one of his few remaining cigarettes. He feels a little bad, but Dick isn’t there and Tim is asleep and no one will know. And Jason stressing out because tomorrow is his first day of school and  _ he has to do well. _

The paper and tobacco crackle softly over the sounds of the city below. He breathes out a cloud of white smoke into the night air and doesn't really feel much better for it. Or, he might if he didn't feel guilty about smoking in the first place. Dick has barely asked for anything, and he's given so much. Jason still doesn't understand why– why a stranger would do all of this, for Jason of all people. Dick should have found someone that actually deserves it. Someone that's able to appreciate it, instead of repaying his generosity with distrust. 

Jason wants to appreciate it. And he does, for the most part, but there's always that part of him that expects everything to be taken away. That expects to be abandoned or abused. 

Jason flicks his butt over the railing. He doesn't go inside right away. It's a cold night and his hands are shaking but those two things aren't related. 

He doesn't believe Dick will do that to him, not  _ really _ , not anymore, but. He just… can't. Can't give more trust than he already has. Not yet. Tim may not think it's enough, and maybe it isn't, but it's all he can do. 

That, and get good grades. So he’ll do well in school. He  _ has to _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still just hoping you don't hate Tim and trust me lol it'll get better I promise. Eventually...
> 
> And thank you so so much for all of your comments, even if I don't respond to every one right away I appreciate them a whole lot <3


	6. 1.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the bell rings he walks out of the classroom feeling a little disoriented. He just finished his first junior high class and it… wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really fascinating to see how y'all react differently to Tim!
> 
> This chapter is alternatively titled: Jason Has the Worst First Day of School Ever... I'm warning you now, gird your emotional loins
> 
> Take note of the new tags please

They walk to school together, Tim listening to music and Jason memorising the route. Tim leaves him once they’re inside and Jason stops by the front office to pick up his class schedule and textbooks. It takes a while to hunt down his locker, and then to get the hang of opening the combination lock. He drops off the books he won’t need until later, then wanders around trying to find his first class. Finally he finds the right room number shortly after the bell rings. When he walks in the chatter in the room dies as all of the kids look at him.

“You must be the new student,” the teacher says, walking over to stand next to him. She puts a hand on his shoulder and Jason tries to cover his flinch. She’s too close and he fights to not step away. “I’m Miss Anderson. Everyone, this is Jason Todd, Tim’s brother.”

“He’s _not_ my brother,” comes an annoyed voice from the back of the room. Jason looks, and there’s Tim, scowling.

Miss Anderson glances between them, confused. “Oh? But Susan said…”

“I’m just… living with him,” Jason tells her. “We’re not brothers.”

“Oh, well then I’m sorry. Class, this is Jason.”

Everyone stares at him. Jason feels like a bug under glass at some weird exhibit. He wants to hold his binder in front of himself like a shield. A couple of the girls smile.

Miss Anderson says, “There’s an empty desk in the back by Tim, you can sit next to him,” like it’s something he should be happy about.

Jason walks down the row, kids watching as he passes, until he gets to the open seat to Tim’s right. And this is just great, isn’t it. Because they’re not forced to spend enough time together already. It’s not even that he hates Tim– he doesn’t; Tim has been helpful, even when he’s being a bitch about it. It’s the forced proximity. Jason hasn’t spent this much time with one person since his mom died, and even then she wasn’t… a very active participant in their interactions. Drugs tend to do that to a person. But now he has either Dick or Tim or both around him at all times, and it’s starting to grate on his nerves.

“We're going to start off with a worksheet today,” Miss Anderson announces, handing small stacks of papers to the kids in the front row, who pass the rest back. The boy in front of Jason tosses the last paper over his shoulder carelessly and it falls onto the floor. Jason reaches down to pick it up. Miss Anderson turns on a TV in the front corner of the classroom. “Justine, lights?”

A girl with a red ponytail nearest the door reaches over to turn off the lights.

They're watching a movie? In class? Jason looks down at the paper on his scratched desk, wondering what he’s supposed to do with it.

The teacher sits and grabs a diet coke from the mini fridge next to her desk, cracking it open with a fizzly snap.

A documentary plays. The intro is ambiguous, shots of nature and lava and glaciers. Jason can’t tell what it’s about. The paper in front of him says _Colliding Continents_ on the top.

The only light in the room is the glow from the TV.

Stretching across the corner of her desk Miss Anderson asks, “Laura, what does it mean if a guy says he had a good time last night? Is that just something people say to be nice, like code for, _I never want to see you again_?”

Laura sits forward eagerly. “What were his _exact_ words?”

Jason reads through the worksheet. It’s a series of statements with one or two key words blanked out. They’re probably sentences taken directly from the documentary, right? So he just has to wait and listen for them to get the missing words. Jason frowns. This is… really easy. That can’t be all there is to it. But maybe taking notes like this helps students remember the information better.

“He said, ‘I had a really good time with you last night, Courtney’.”

_…Giant land masses that stabilize the environment…_

Laura gasps. “He said a _really_ good time _and_ your name? He totally likes you, Miss A.”

“You think?” Miss Anderson smiles.

Tim leans over to whisper, “Can I borrow a pen?”

“Are you serious?” Jason asks.

“I don’t have one.”

_…The geological future of New York is going to be rather traumatic…_

“We were at the store two days ago,” Jason points out, “why didn’t you get one for yourself?”

“I didn’t need to, I had one two days ago.”

“And?”

“I told you, they disappear.”

“Boys,” Miss Anderson says over the movie, “I’m sure you’re happy to be together, but please pay attention.” She turns back to Laura. “Are you sure? Because I kind of got the feeling he wasn’t enjoying dinner…”  

“Yes ma'am,” Jason says, even though she isn’t paying attention anymore. He fishes out his spare pen and slaps it on Tim's desk.

“Well what did you two do after dinner?” asks Laura.

_…This incredible remodeling is just part of a natural cycle that has shaped the earth for the last four billion years…_

There! That’s the same as the second statement on the page. What’s missing was… four billion. Got it!

“We, um. Just…” Miss Anderson coughs. “Nothing. Nothing happened after dinner.”

Wait. That’s the second one… he missed the first!

Softly, Jason asks Tim, “Did you catch the first one? I missed it.”

“‘The world as we know it will be unrecognisable’,” Tim recites.

Jason writes in the word _unrecognisable_. How will that help him study? Will that actually be a question on a test?

“Thanks.”

“Jason and Tim!” His head snaps up to where Miss Anderson is staring at them, lips pursed. A few of the other kids are looking too. “Do I need to seperate you boys?”

“N-no,” he says. _It’s your fault_ , Jason wants to scream. He couldn’t hear the narrator over her conversation. But more than angry, he’s scared. He _can’t_ get in trouble, especially not on the first day, in his _first class_ . Not that he wouldn’t mind being separated from Tim, but it would be a _punishment_ , because he did something _bad_. “Sorry.”

“I’ll let it go since it’s your first day, but don’t make a habit of it.”

Jason just nods. Some of the kids are still watching. He feels like crawling under his desk. Or smashing the desk into pieces.

“I don’t know, Miss A, but it sounds like he wants to go out with you again.”

“I hope so,” Miss Anderson sighs. “He’s so cute, and he actually has a _job_.”

_…Where Earth got it’s water has been a confrontational topic over the years…_

Jason fills in the word _water_.

When the documentary is over Justine flips the lights back on. The kid in front of Jason is asleep, head cradled on his arms.

“Okay let’s check your answers. Get out a red pen.” Miss Anderson reads off the ten words they should have written down. Jason notices a few of the students, including Laura, writing in the right answers in pencil as she lists them. Miss Anderson doesn’t look up until she’s finished. “Put your grade at the top and pass them to the front.”

Jason writes a _%100._ His first grade. It’s good, right? He’s starting out with a perfect grade, that should be… good. He just doesn’t feel like he did much for it.

He hands the red pen over to Tim before he can ask.

When the bell rings he walks out of the classroom feeling a little disoriented. He just finished his first junior high class and it… wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

Next on his schedule is AP English, which Jason is actually excited about. The vice principal had said he scored pretty high on that part of the test. Jason hadn’t known all of the terms, like what a conjunctive adverb was, but he knows how sentences are supposed to look– he knows when they’re wrong and how to fix them. He’s spent most of the past few years at the public library, reading every book he could. The library is free if you return the books on time, and a relatively safe place, even in his old neighborhood. He had a lot of free time, especially after he didn’t have his mom to take care of anymore. Not much else for a street kid to do that doesn’t involve hurting people. Books became an escape for him, both physically and mentally, and he’s looking forward to being able to talk about them with other kids who love them too.

He introduces himself to Mrs. Chapman (well into her sixties and still wearing bright blue eyeshadow) and then takes the empty desk she points out in the corner. He has a feeling he’s going to be stuck in the back in all of his classes.

The bells rings.

Mrs. Chapman doesn’t glance up from grading papers. The other kids chat and do homework and Jason sits there, waiting.

The girl in the next seat turns to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jason answers, awkward but hopeful.

“I’m Heather.”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, I know. I heard you’re living with Tim Drake,” she says, eyes lighting up at his name.

He nods, surprised at how fast the news travelled.

Heather leans in and asks, “What’s he like?”

Jason’s heart sinks a little. She’s only interested in Tim. He answers, “Messy,” and Heather considers that.

“Jayden, come to my desk,” Mrs. Chapman calls. After a moment, “ _Jayden!_ ”

Jason notices no one is moving to answer her, and a few kids are looking at him. Heather whispers, “I think she means you.”

Warily, Jason stands and shuffles up the down the row. “Um, did you mean me?”

“Of course I did, there aren’t any other Jaydens in this class.”

“My name is Jason, ma’am.”

“Well Jason or Jayden, I expect you to answer promptly when I call for you.” Before Jason can respond she asks, “Did you come to my class prepared?”

“I– I think so?” He has everything Tim said he’d need…

“Are you certain of that?” she asks imperiously. There’s hot pink lipstick smeared in the corner of her lips. “I don’t see a copy of _The Old Man and the Sea_ on your desk.”

“Um, I didn’t know I was supposed to have one.”

She levels him a severe look. “I do not appreciate being lied to, Jasper. I know the office gives a list of needed supplies to new students.”

A black hole of panic grows in the center of his ribcage. He stammers, “I’m not– I didn’t get any list,” and his voice is not politely soft but fearfully frail.  

Mrs. Chapman stares him down and he tries to look like he’s not lying, which shouldn’t be hard because he really isn’t lying, but for some reason he feels like his face and the way he’s standing is coming off as suspicious. “Very well. Follow along as best as you can in today’s discussion, and have a copy of your own by tomorrow.”

“I’ve already read it,” he tells her.

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but not for her to frown and say, “Don’t think you can go ahead of the rest of the students, everyone needs to learn at the same pace. I still expect you to procure a fresh copy. At the end of every week the books are turned in so I can check that you have been highlighting and annotating. Now sit down so we may begin the lesson.”

Jason goes back and wraps his hands around the cold metal bars that make the legs of his desk, squeezing hard. He has trouble paying attention to the discussion. This was what he wanted, to talk about books, but he can’t concentrate through the frustration building inside him, howling so hard that he can _hear_ it between his ears. He snaps into focus when Mrs. Chapman says, “Jared, please read the next passage.”

When no one else speaks up he assumes that’s supposed to be him. Carefully he reminds her, “I don’t have the book.”

“I’m sure one of your neighbors would be happy to lend you theirs.”

He turns to Heather. “Um. Can I?”

She hands it over. Jason flips through the pages and looks at Heather questioningly, but she shrugs in apology. He clears his throat. “What, uh. Which part should I read?”

“You would know if you had been paying attention,” Mrs. Chapman answers, and then she just stares at him for a long moment, the room silent, while Jason tries not to lose his breakfast all over the carpet. “Page twelve, paragraph two.”

He doesn’t remember ever reading out loud before, especially not in front of people. He mumbles his way through it. His voice shakes. He wants to die. Or, not _die_ , exactly, but just not be _here_.

His voice cracks over the last word.

Someone laughs.

Never mind, he wants to die.

For the last twenty minutes he wraps his arms around his middle and barely keeps himself from rocking back and forth. His legs bounce wildly though, he can’t stop that.

When the bell rings mercifully he books it out of the room and into the nearest bathroom. He splashes water in his face to cool down and rinse away the sweat gathered along his hairline, drying off with thin, rough paper towels.

Next is math. He’s starting to get a sense of how the classroom numbers run, and it’s easier to find the right room. Introduction, desk in the back, wait.

As the rest of the students file in Mrs. Tran approaches, setting some worksheets on his desk. “Here is the homework everyone else will be turning in today. For you it’s due tomorrow before the start of class.”

Jason takes the papers and looks them over. Circumference… radius… area of a circle… He looks up at her. “I haven’t learned this yet.”

“You need to learn it tonight, there’s a test over it tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how to do any of this.”

“Best way to learn something is to practice,” she says, waving at the homework.

“But… if I haven’t learned it, how can I do the homework?”

Mrs. Tran presses her lips together tightly. “Open a textbook. You’re in middle school, it’s time for you to learn to do things on your own. It’s not my job to walk you through everything.”

Jason almost points out that that literally is her job, but bites his tongue. Almost bites _through_ his tongue.

She continues, “The test was scheduled for today. I was nice enough to postpone it and give you a day to catch up, but the rest of the students can’t wait around for you forever. We’re moving on.”

She teaches them about the pythagorean theorem and he could probably understand if it didn’t feel like his brain is too big for his head, like his blood is boiling.

The feeling gets worse in P.E. He can’t breathe right, and it’s not from the mile he’s running around the school grounds. At least, it shouldn’t be, not from the exertion. He can run a mile– he can run two or three miles while carrying a car exhaust. But every step is compounding that rattle inside him that made him bounce his legs, the energy being multiplied each time his foot slaps the pavement, and it feeds the black hole in his chest until he can feel it pumping through his fingers and toes and behind his eyes. It’s similar to when Dick took him to the gym, only so much worse and this isn’t enough to exhaust him, which is what had saved him last time.

He runs along the other boys in silence as they move in groups of twos and threes, talking, their voices and the pounding of their shoes creating a cloud of white noise for Jason to focus on. It only helps a little though.

After the run the coach sends them to the locker room, yells at them to shower up. Jason pulls off the standard issue cotton shorts and t-shirt Mr. Shaw had tossed at him and approaches the showers with a towel wrapped around his waist. Some of the other boys are already in there. Jason keeps his eyes up and hangs his towel on a hook, then steps under the spray.

He has never felt so vulnerable. Even the first night at Bruce Wayne’s manor, as scared as he’s ever been, he had his taser and a locked door to hide behind. He wishes he had his taser now, just to have it nearby. But he knew better than to try and bring it to school. If he got caught with that they’d probably never let him back in.

But now Jason is naked and scrawny and boney and small in a room full of other naked boys and he hates this, _hates_ this. He washes as fast as he possibly can, both keeping an eye out for attack and avoiding actually looking at anyone.

Back in his own clothes Jason hurries to the cafeteria for his lunch period. He doesn’t think he can stomach any food right now, but he also feels like he’ll collapse if he doesn’t eat. It’s strange, he’s gone far longer without food and never felt so weak. But he uses the money Dick had given him that morning to buy an apple, bypassing the hot food that makes his stomach churn.

Looking out at the dozens of long tables and the mass of kids sitting on the benches, he spots Tim already settled in with his own lunch and heads straight for him because yeah, he’s tired of Tim’s stupid judgemental face, but at least it’s a familiar stupid judgemental face, unlike all the others here.  

Tim is sitting with a blonde kid wearing glasses.

“You didn’t tell me you had another brother,” his friend is saying.

“Shut up, Ives, he’s _not_ my brother.”

“Ease up man, I was just joking. Hey, Jason!” The blonde guy says, smiling. “Come sit with us.”

Jason does, sliding onto the bench next to Tim. He would go sit on the other side next to the blond kid instead but that would mean walking all the way down and around, and he is petty enough to do that but his knees are wobbling. The room is too loud, so many voices talking over each other at once. “How do you know who I am?”

“Everyone knows about the new kid.” As if to confirm this, the girls at the next table start whispering to each other, taking not-so-sneaky glances over at Jason. “Hi! I’m Ives, Sebastian Ives.”

“Oh, um. Jason. Todd.”

“And I’m Tim Drake.” Tim roll his eyes, shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth. Jason can’t watch, even the smell of the pizza making it hard for him to convince himself to eat the apple he’s rolling between his sweaty palms.

“So, Jason, how was–” Ives is cut off by another voice.

“Yo, Jason!”

His eyes dart toward the sound coming from behind Ives, and there’s the boy officer Lin was dragging along when she talked to him and Dick in the parking lot. Freddy.

Tim shoots Jason a quizzical look.

“Uh, hi.”

Freddy saunters over to stand next to their table, leaning his forearm on Ives’ shoulder, who frowns up at him. “Sup?”

“N-nothing?” Jason doesn’t know why this kid is talking to him. He’d seemed completely uninterested last week.

“I just wanted to know how you’re fitting in,” Freddy says, and it’s casual but there’s something in his voice that has Jason tensing, even more than he has been all morning.

He answers, “Fine,” and hopes Freddy will go away.

He doesn’t.

“My mom told me to check in on you and make you feel welcome.” Freddy rolls his eyes. Jason has seen a lot of eye rolling recently from Tim, but it’s really ugly when this kid does it. “You know, since you’re not from this neighborhood.”

Jason freezes. His nails dig into the fruit in his hands, juice running down his fingers.

Whatever is coming, Tim must sense it too. “Lin,” he warns, voice hard.

“She works at the precinct with that guy you’re living with. Told me how you got picked up in Crime Alley,” Freddy says loudly, loud enough for all of the kids nearby to hear, to stop and watch. “She said he found you whoring yourself out on the corner.”

And here it is: the point at which Jason’s body finally snaps and betrays him. His insides have been shaking themselves apart all day, ratcheting up and up and now they explode; he leans to the side and throws up on the tile floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY please don't hate me
> 
> I know this fic has been so angsty so far, and it will be for at least one more chapter, but then I hope it'll lighten up some after that. The first part is establishing the baseline of everyone struggling with their pasts and the situation and each other, and then after this it'll move into learning and healing. 
> 
> And! It may seem like I Hate All Teachers but I don't lol, I know most of them are just doing their best. What I _really _have a problem with is the American public school system, as some of you picked up on in chapter four. But that combined with some teachers not actually doing their best results in bullshit like what happened in this chapter, most of which is based on my own personal experience, some of it word for word.__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _As always, thank you for your comments. I absolutely love hearing your thoughts._  
> 


	7. 1.7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim punches Freddy Lin, right in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit y'all I can't believe I wrote this chapter so fast! but I didn't wanna leave you on a sad, stressful cliffhanger for too long, and your comments were really encouraging <3 This is now my longest fic!!
> 
> And just so you know, I'm picturing this set in like the late eighties- early nineties because that's when Jason and Tim were young canonically and I really just cannot imagine them in modern day? Like, is thirteen year-old Jason gonna go on twitter?? no that's weird lol 
> 
> This chapter is still emotional but not nearly as bad as the last and ends on a more hopeful note

It’s silent but for Jason’s sputtering coughs and raspy breaths.

Tim sets a gentle hand on Jason’s back, feeling the muscles over his ribs spasm. He’s confused, surprised at Jason’s reaction, but more than that he’s _angry._ His eyes are far from gentle as he glares down Freddy Lin, who stands there staring at Jason, face morphing into disgust.

“Ives,” Tim says with all the calm he can muster, “take Jason to the nurse’s office.”

Ives jumps up and rounds the lunch table. When he reaches Jason he holds out a handful of napkins. Says softly, “Here, man. Let’s go.”

Jason’s whole body is shaking as he wipes his mouth and allows Ives to help him off the bench, Tim’s hand slipping from his shirt as he goes. Tim’s seen people act like this a couple of times, when he was Robin– people who had been nearly killed by mobsters or pulled from a building just before it exploded. Bruce had taught him about trauma victims and how to handle them until the paramedics or cops get there to take care of them… But was what Freddy said really so traumatic? Yeah, it’s probably the worst thing that could have been shouted out in front of everyone– socially this is a nightmare for Jason– but Tim didn’t realise Jason would care so much about something like that, or have such an immediate, violent reaction.

Although, now that he thinks about it, Jason had seemed rattled when he first sat down. Maybe he was already anxious, and Freddy just pushed him over the edge. He must have been really upset already. He must have been stressing out hard and Tim hadn’t even noticed. Or… maybe he didn’t really care.

But seeing that just now makes him care.

Is it because of the new school? Were the other kids being mean to him in his other classes? No one said anything to him in first period, aside from Miss Anderson… And, now that Tim thinks about it, Jason had kind of shut down when she scolded them. He had reacted the way he does when he thinks Dick is mad at him, which is totally different from when Tim is mad. He doesn’t seem to care when Tim is mad, but Dick, and Miss Anderson… Had other teachers gotten mad at him too?

Jason had been so excited for school, but it seems like he didn’t have the best start, and now it’s really gone to shit.

Ives and Jason aren’t even out of the cafeteria before conversation picks up again, all of the students asking each other what happened, who was that guy, was what Freddy said true...

Freddy looks around in satisfaction at the attention he’s gotten. “Yeah, that’s right. The new kid’s a whore. What’d he do,” he asks Tim with a sneer, “offer himself up for a hot meal? Is that why Grayson took him in?”

Tim stands, fists clenched at his sides. “Shut your fucking mouth, Lin.”

Freddy gives him a nasty look. “That why he took you in too?”

In a flash Tim reaches out, grabs Freddy Lin by the shirt, and slams him down onto the table, the back of his head landing in someone’s mashed potatoes. Tim climbs on top of him. Freddy struggles but Tim has his lower half pinned and his wrists in a tight grip with his arms crossed over his stomach.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Tim growls.

“I know what my mom told me.” Freddy somehow manages to look smug in spite of being held down in front of everyone with chocolate milk staining his sleeves. “That part’s true- your new brother’s a whore.”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

“He try anything on you yet? You gotta be careful, he’s probably full of–”

Tim punches Freddy Lin, right in his face.

He’s a little surprised at himself. He has never hit anyone (outside of fighting bad guys) and always promised himself he wouldn’t. Dick had agreed to keep training him for _self-defense only_. This isn’t self-defense. This is Tim losing his temper. This isn’t even a fight, it’s him using his advantage over someone, some kid with no training. He told himself not to do this.

He doesn’t feel even a little bit bad about it.

“What’s going on here?” comes a shout, and Coach Shaw pushes his way through the group of kids that have gathered around to watch. He barks, “Drake!” and pulls Tim off of Freddy. Tim lets him.

“What happened,” Mr. Shaw demands, helping Freddy sit up and climb off the table.   

Freddy’s voice comes out nasally, muffled by his hands as he holds his bleeding nose. “I was just talking to the new kid and he freaked out and ran away, then Drake attacked me.”

“Todd is involved in this?” Coach asks. “Where is he?”

“Ives took him to Mrs. Nash,” Tim answers. “But he didn’t do anything.”

“We’ll see about that.” Mr. Shaw marches them both to the nurse’s office, opening the door with, “Got a bloody nose, Carol,” by way of greeting.

The nurse sits Freddy down on one of the three plastic chairs lined up along the wall and tries to staunch the bleeding. In the back there’s a small exam table occupied by Jason, who’s lying with his back to the room, still trembling. Ives is perched on the table by his legs. He glances from Freddy to Tim with wide eyes, then leans down to whisper something. Jason doesn’t move.

“Get back to lunch, Ives,” Mr. Shaw says.

Ives gives Jason a small pat on the shoulder and leaves.

Tim moves to check on him but Mr. Shaw snaps, “Sit down, Drake.”

“But–”

“You’re on thin ice already, kid. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

So Tim sits, quietly fuming, watching Jason’s back while Mrs. Nash patches up Freddy’s nose. He needs to see if Jason is okay, or at least sit next to him.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Coach asks, nodding toward Jason.

Mrs. Nash replies, “I’m not sure. Maybe food poisoning.”

“He’s not hurt or anything?”

“Not that I saw.”

It’s not food poisoning, Tim wants to say. It’s trauma, it’s stress, it’s anxiety and panic. But they don’t need to know that. Mrs. Nash wouldn’t know what to do with that, probably just tell him to rest until he feels better and then go back to class. Jason doesn’t need to go back to class, he needs to get out of here. He needs to go home, to a safe place.

Is the apartment a safe place for Jason?

Tim bites his lip. It might not be.

But Dick will come soon and take him home. It’ll be okay.

When she’s done with Freddy she checks Tim’s hand– uninjured, Tim knows how to throw a punch– and Mr. Shaw leads them both out and down the hall to the front office, depositing them in the chairs next to the receptionist’s desk while he goes to report to the principal. From behind the desk Miss Park smiles at Tim.

“Hey, how’s Dick doing?”

He ignores her question. “He’s not my brother.”

“Excuse me?”

“You told Miss Anderson Jason is my brother. He’s not.”

Beside him, Freddy Lin snorts, and then grimaces in pain, gingerly touching his new bandage.

“O-oh, I just assumed…” she trails off at Tim’s flat look. “Sorry.”

Wheeler walks out of his office with Mr. Shaw in tow. “Thank you, Daniel. You can head back to your class now. Susan, please call these boys’ parents and tell them to come in right away.”

The bell rings overhead. Tim should be going to Spanish, but instead he’s stuck here listening to Freddy Lin’s mouth-breathing.

Dick shows up first. He goes straight to Tim, quickly scanning him for signs of injury, eyes lingering briefly on his reddened knuckles. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And Jason?”

“He’s with the nurse. Dick, he needs to go home.”

Wheeler pokes his head out. “Ah, Mr. Grayson. Please, come into my office.”

“Sorry, I need to check on Jason first.” He’s already on his way out.

“You need a visitors’ pass!” Miss Park calls after him, but he doesn’t stop.

A woman who Tim assumes is Freddy Lin’s mom rushes in a few minutes later. “Freddy! Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” She crouches in front of her son, closely inspecting his swollen face, then glances over at Tim. “Did you do this?”

He nods.

Her nostrils flare and eyebrows pull down angrily. “Do you realise I’m a police officer? I could press charges!”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Kelly.”

Mrs. Lin turns around. “Grayson? What are you doing here?”

Dick walks over, sets a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “This is Tim.”

“This is…” She sighs, deflating into something a little less rage-filled. “Hi, Tim.”

“Why don’t we discuss this in my office,” Mr. Wheeler says, and everyone files inside and sits down.

“Is he okay,” Tim asks Dick quietly.

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk to me.”

Wheeler leans back in his high-backed chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “It seems we have a bit of a situation.”

“What happened?” Mrs. Lin asks.

“What happened is Drake punched me!” Freddy yells. “He threw me down on the table and attacked me! He’s fucking crazy!”

“Language,” his mom scolds distractedly. She looks to Tim. “Is this true?”

Mr. Wheeler answers, “One our teachers had to pull Tim off of him. This is a very serious offense, Mr. Grayson. We have a zero-tolerance policy here. I’m afraid Tim will have to be suspended. Two weeks.”

“ _Suspended?_ Wait a second,” Dick says, “has anyone even asked _why_ Tim hit him?” When Wheeler remains silent Dick adds, “Does that even matter to you? Tim, tell us what happened.”

In a clear, even voice he tells them, “He called Jason a whore in front of everyone, and then said the reason you took both of us in is to fuck us.”

Three sets of stunned eyes stare at him for a long moment. Then Mrs. Lin snaps her head around to look at her son, who’s slouched defensively low in his seat. _“What?”_ she shrieks. “Why would you say that?”

“That’s what you said!” Freddy shoots back. “You told me he was a prostitute!”

“Oh my god,” she groans miserably, covering face with one hand. “Oh god, I… The part about Dick– I never said anything like that. Where the hell did you get that from?”

Freddy shrugs petulantly.

“I’m so _sorry_ , Grayson. I told him– I just wanted him to help Jason get acclimated and feel welcome. I had no idea he would do something like this. This is horrifying.”

“So it’s true?” Wheeler asks.

Dick’s jaw muscles jump, clenching. “I don’t see how that’s important. But Jason never elicited sex, no.”

Tim notices his careful wording– leaving out the fact that just because he didn’t succeed doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“Obviously he comes from… a colorful past,” Wheeler says. “You assured me it wouldn’t be an issue. Here it’s only been half a day and we already have a fight.”

Tim speaks up. “That wasn’t Jason’s fault. He didn’t do anything. He wasn’t even there when the fight started.”

“He was the cause–”

“ _He_ was the cause,” Tim argues, throwing an accusing finger at Freddy Lin.

“Nevertheless,” Wheeler continues, “he is a disruptive presence. I’ve consulted some of his teachers and they say he’s been a distraction, not paying attention, unprepared, talking back.”

A current of adrenaline and frustration has been racing through him for the past forty-five minutes and it’s building again. He wants to hit something again. “This isn’t about Jason! _I’m_ the one who hit Freddy and _Freddy_ is the one that announced to the entire seventh grade that he was a predatory whore from Crime Alley, which I think is at least as damaging as a punch to the face, seeing as it upset Jason so much he threw up.”

Dick asks, “He did?”

“Yeah, that’s why he wasn’t there when the fight started; I had Ives take him to the nurse. He was really shaken up.”

Dick settles his hard stare onto the vice principal. “Well? Is Freddy suspended too?”

“No. Tim is the one that got violent.”

“How can what he said not matter,” Dick demands.

“It simply doesn’t fall under the purview of what we consider to be bullying. Frankly, kids say a lot of things, Mr. Grayson.”

“Do they say you’re an incompetent asshole?” Tim asks, laying a trap…

...Which Wheeler falls into. “Watch it, young man, or I’ll add another week to your suspension.”

Tim nearly jumps from his chair. “When I say something rude to you I get a week of suspension but what Freddy said doesn’t get him any punishment? Do you not see how fucked up that is?”

“I agree,” Mrs. Lin says.

“What?” Freddy whines. “Mom!”

“You be quiet! It sounds to me like you gave this poor boy a panic attack when he was already having trouble adjusting to everything. He’s been through a lot and you just went and aired it out to the whole school. I’m so disappointed in you right now.” To Wheeler, “Freddy’s punishment should match Tim’s.”

“Very well,” he says reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to agree to something that’s not his idea. “As for Jason, I have to wonder if this is the best-suited environment for him. Maybe you should reconsider, Mr. Grayson, whether or not he is ready to be a student here.”

He’s not, Tim thinks, but not for the same reasons that Wheeler is thinking. Wheeler doesn’t know everything Jason’s been through in the past few weeks, in the past few years. He’s a victim of abuse and neglect, thrust into a totally new life he doesn’t understand with new people in a new place. He’s scared and confused.

Tim can practically feel the light bulb of dawning realisation.

He feels like an idiot.

Like he told Wheeler, this isn’t Jason’s fault. There are a lot of things that aren’t Jason’s fault, like being born where he was and having the parents he had. Like having to do the things he did to survive; Tim had been thinking Jason should have found another way, but what other way was there? It’s not his fault Dick found him and wanted to help, and of course he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to get away from Crime Alley. Tim’s been hating that Jason is living with them, and honestly he still would rather it just be him and Dick, but he doesn’t want Jason to have to go back to where he was and doing what he did. Yeah, Jason moving in with them has changed Tim’s life around _again,_ but Jason isn’t the one to get mad at about that.

He’d gotten so upset in the cafeteria, to the point of sickness. Tim had no idea he was that stressed out. Has he been that anxious this whole time? And Tim thought he’d been helping Jason by taking him shopping and assuring him Dick is a good person, but he realises it probably wasn’t enough. In fact, he probably made things worse in some ways. He’s only been thinking about how his own life has been inconvenienced by all of this. He never really thought about what it’s been like for Jason.

Dick replies, “I won’t reconsider anything until I’ve talked with Jason. Now I think we’re done here. I’m taking Tim and Jason home,” he says with finality, standing.

In the main office Mrs. Lin stops Dick with a hand on his arm. “Dick, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this. Really, I–”

Dick’s face is hard set. “I’d like to say it’s okay, Kelly, but it’s really not. You put Jason in danger and I don’t think I can forgive that. All I’ve been trying to do is keep him safe, and–” he huffs a sound like an angry animal, but lowers his voice. “I’ll talk to you later, Lin. Right now I need to get Jason.”

Tim follows him out and down the hall. When Dick opens the door to the nurse’s office he pauses, asks, “Where is Jason?”

“I sent him back to class,” Mrs. Nash answers.

Dick’s hand tightens dangerously on the doorknob. “You _what?_ ”

“He said he was feeling better.”

Dick is turning around almost before she’s even stopped talking, storming back the way they came and Tim nearly has to run to keep up with him. “Where is Jason right now,” he demands of Miss Park.

“W-what? I don’t–”

“Pull up his class schedule and tell me where to find him!” he yells.

She hurries to comply, and Tim feels a little bad that she’s experiencing the brunt of Dick’s anger in this moment. He’s furious, and Dick is terrifying when he’s furious.

“He has Spanish with Mr. Fairfield, room number–”

“I’m on it,” Tim says and runs out. He knows exactly where it is. It’s where he was supposed to be right now. He and Jason could have gone to class together, if lunch hadn’t been such a shit-show.

He gets to Mr. Fairfield’s room but Jason isn’t there. Mr. Fairfield doesn’t know who he’s talking about when he asks. Jason never showed at all.

Where did he go? Would he have left the school?

Tim wanders around, checking empty rooms and bathrooms… and then he passes the school library.

He ducks inside and past the librarian on duty, down some rows and past tables not being used. It seems like there’s no one here right now.

No one except Jason, sitting in the far back corner, curled up with his knees pulled up to his chest and head tucked into his arms.

Softly Tim says, “Jason.”

“Go away.” His voice is ragged. There are deep scratches up and down his forearms.

“We need to g–”

“Get away from me! I just wanna be left _alone._ ”

“I’ll leave you alone when we get home, okay, promise. Just let me get you out of here first.” Tim sits down on the carpet a few feet away. “I know you’re going through some shit–”

“You don’t know anything!”

“I–” Tim stops. Maybe he _doesn’t_ know anything. Everything about Jason’s behavior has been a total mystery to him. Even now that he knows what’s causing it, he still doesn’t really understand. He knows Jason came from a bad place, but he doesn’t know exactly why that makes him react the way he does. Maybe… maybe it’s time for him to learn.

“You’re right.” He fiddles with his shoelace. It comes loose. He re-ties it. “What happened to you today?”

“Nothing. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.” Jason’s face is still buried in his arms. Tim says, “I punched Freddy Lin.”

After a moment Jason says, “Ives told me. I didn’t believe him.” Slowly he lifts his head to look at Tim with red-rimmed eyes. He quickly wipes the tear tracks off his cheeks. “Did you really?”

“Yeah. It was great, you should have seen his face.”

“Wasn’t Dick mad?”

“Not at me.” He shrugs. “He’ll probably talk to me about it later. I might be grounded or something, I’m not sure.” He’s never actually gotten into trouble since he’s been with Dick. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he’s not too worried about it.

Jason’s the one that looks worried. “You shouldn’t– you shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s like I said before, Dick isn’t like your dad, Jason. He won’t hurt us. You need to know that.”

Jason retreats back into himself a little, tense again. “I know, okay, I know but I just can’t–”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tim says quickly. “Look, I… I don’t really get why, but I understand it’s gonna take a while for you to be able to trust him. You’ve only known us for like three weeks.”

Tim had trusted Bruce right away. He saw that he did great things and never questioned whether that meant he was a great man.

He still thinks Bruce is a great man, but… He’s not as great as Dick. Dick helped Tim realise that Bruce is flawed. That he was _wrong._

_“It was my fault–”_

_“No! It wasn’t! You were a child and Bruce was an adult who put you in a dangerous situation. It’s_ his _fault.”_

Tim runs his fingertips down his once-shattered forearm. It only recently healed. If he were still with Bruce, he’d be back in the field by now.

Maybe Jason is the smart one. It’s better to be sure of someone before letting your guard down, before letting them take complete control of your life. Before letting them let you get hurt.

Before letting them hurt you.

Tim clears his throat. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of him.”

“I don’t wanna be either,” is Jason’s soft reply. Then, more firmly, “I wish _I_ could punch Freddy.”

Tim huffs a short laugh. “I was surprised you didn’t.”

“I wanted to.” He sighs. Closes his eyes for a long moment. “I’ve had a really shitty day, Tim.”

He sounds so tired, and it’s somehow the most honest, vulnerable thing Jason’s ever said to him. “Yeah. I know. You wanna go home?”

Jason nods. He stands, still slightly unsteady.

Dick is waiting just outside the library. He must have come looking for them and left to let them have their conversation in private, which Tim appreciates. He looks less angry now, less like he’s about to rip someone’s head off. That’s good, Tim thinks, because the state he was in before would have had Jason running for the hills.

“Are you okay?” he asks Jason, who nods. Dick seems to realise that’s all he’ll be getting for now. “Okay. Good. Let’s go home, guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I hope this doesn't seem like a 180 for Tim too fast? But sometimes it really just takes something big like that, something you can't ignore, to make a person realise something is wrong. Like he can hear that Jason experienced some shit but when he sees it first-hand it triggers his need to step up. And he wasn't a total asshole before, like he was still a good person, he just didn't really understand yet that Jason needed his help, and patience is not one of his strong-suits. 
> 
> And btw I'm pretty much done with my venting of hate for the school system lol it won't be so prominent in the rest of the fic, if there at all
> 
> Please tell what you think about this chapter!! Your comments are so, so helpful I swear 
> 
> Also, on a personal note completely unrelated to this fic-- if any of you are feeling suicidal, please talk to someone. My little cousin tried to kill himself a few days ago and he's okay, he's getting help, but it's really scary and reminded me of when I was his age, feeling the same way, and I just feel the need to put this encouragement out there for anyone who might need it: Please take care of yourself. I can't say it'll be easy, I can't even promise it'll get better-- at least maybe not for a long time, but I can promise that it's always worth it to try. Try to keep going and get help and make yourself better <3


	8. 1.8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quietly, Dick says, “Tim, why don’t you go to your room while Jason and I talk.”
> 
> Tim starts to stand but Jason lets out a panicked noise, and he hesitates. “Do you want me to stay?”
> 
> Looking like he hates himself for it, Jason nods.
> 
> Tim sits.

The ride back to the apartment is quiet and when they walk in Jason heads straight for his bed. Dick watches him, heart hurting, but lets him go without a word. Jason needs to be alone.

Instead he pulls Tim over to the kitchen table. “Sit.”

“Are we gonna eat lunch? Mine got interrupted,” he tries to joke, but Dick’s not in the mood.

He crosses his arms. “We’re talking about how you broke a boy’s nose.”

Tim crosses his arms right back. “Come on, Dick, you heard what he said. He had it coming.”

“This isn’t about whether he deserved to be hit, it’s about you. I don’t want this to be how you react to bad shit, okay? You can’t punch away your problems.”

“I wasn’t trying to punch away my problems,” Tim argues. “I knew it wouldn’t solve anything, I just wanted to hit him.”

“This can’t be how you deal with your emotions,” Dick says firmly.

Tim’s face darkens. “You’re such a hypocrite. I’m not the one with the anger-management issues, Dick. Don’t pretend like you’re some beacon of well-adjustment.”

He’s been furious for what feels like hours at this point, and his control is waning, but he reminds himself that Tim isn’t the one he’s mad at. “I’m fully aware of my own flaws, and that’s exactly why I can tell you not to act that way! I know how much Bruce messed me up by raising me the way he did, and I won’t let it happen to you. I took you away from him to keep you healthy, both physically and mentally. I’m working really hard to create a safe place for you and Jason.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah, you worked so hard to keep Jason’s life private. What’d you do, announce it to the whole the precinct in the morning briefing?”

“You know I didn’t,” Dick snaps. “I didn’t want for it to get out but it did, unfortunately, and I assumed the other officers would fucking keep it to themselves!”

“Keep your voice down,” Tim warns, glaring. “You’ll freak Jason out.”

 _Why do you suddenly care so much_ , he wants to ask. Tim has made it pretty damn clear he doesn’t like having him here. Just this morning he barely said a word to Jason while they were getting ready for school.

But he doesn’t open his mouth because Tim’s right– Dick has started yelling and that’s the last thing Jason needs to hear right now. Like he said, he’s aware of his own flaws, and he knows he needs to calm down.

Dick takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, and goes to his room to change into sweats and running shoes. He leaves the apartment quietly.

When his feet his the sidewalk outside, all of his raging energy from the day comes boiling up to the surface and kicks him into movement. He runs.

Honestly, he’s a little surprised he had to have that conversation with Tim. It’s not like him to get violent. Tim gets bratty, or closed off and sulky, and sometimes he yells, but Dick has never had to worry about Tim doing something like this. He just didn’t see it coming. Even when he was Robin, Tim never took too much pleasure from fighting. He would be proud of himself for honing his skills, but he didn’t enjoy hurting people, even the bad guys. He had approached fighting as a necessary thing he had to learn in order be Robin, and now as a backup for in case he needs to protect himself or others. Tim believes in being prepared. He doesn’t train with Dick to work out his aggression.

Tim has a lot of pain inside him, but he’s never looked to physicality as a means for release.

Not like Dick.

As his legs carry him down the sidewalk every step stomps down on his rage, flattening and smoothing it out into something more manageable– something he can hold and inspect and analyze in his mind. If it were nighttime he might consider donning the spandex, to leap and flip and sprint across rooftops. Flying through the air has been his comfort, his home, since he was born. When he’s excited he does a handstand. When he’s anxious he bounces on his toes. When he’s angry… he throws his body from great heights or runs down a sidewalk at top speed or, sometimes, goes looking for a fight with the justification of justice and civil service. _Movement_ and _action_ have always been how he expresses himself and how he deals with his emotions.

Bruce’s solution for dealing with all of his pain is to become a monster, fear and mystery incarnate. Yeah, he does a lot of good with it– as Batman he’s helped Gotham time and time again, but at the end of the day he’s still a man that’s never healed right, just living steeped in his hurt. He’s lost himself in the cowl. He’s more Batman than he is Bruce Wayne.  

Seeing that, Dick has worked hard to keep Nightwing from taking over his entire life. It’s a part of him, but the mask does not define him. Part of that is realising that, while Bruce keeps Bruce Wayne and Batman totally separate, forcing himself to choose one or the other, Dick can be both Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Even when he hasn’t gone out in the suit in months, he hasn’t lost that part of himself.

Unlike Bruce, he doesn’t view a suit and mask purely as a weapon in his arsenal. He knows that there's a person inside.

He knows Bruce loves him, but sometimes Bruce would only see him as Robin, or later Nightwing. Dick didn’t want that for Tim. He could see it happening– caught the calculated look in Bruce’s eye when Tim’s arm broke, sorting out how long it would be until Robin would be active again. What’s worse is that Tim had that same look, trying to figure when he would be useful again.

It wasn’t all the time, he’ll admit. There were plenty of nights that Bruce would make him stay home because he was sick or hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. He remembers Bruce sending him off to bed with a smile. There were times Bruce put Dick’s needs above his own, above Batman’s, above the mission.

But there were times he didn’t.

It’s cold outside in early March, but Dick is fine without a jacket, more than used to cold nights on patrol. In fact he’s sweating. He’s run so far.

He turns around, heads back for the apartment.

Dick sorts through his anger by running or jumping or hitting.

Bruce deals with his pain by retreating into a fighting machine.

But Tim…

It’s not like Tim to get violent. He doesn’t enjoy hurting people, and that’s not how he works out his aggression.

Tim didn’t hit Freddy because he had no control over himself. He didn’t hit Freddy because he thought that would make his anger go away. He didn’t hit Freddy because that’s what he was trained to do.

He hit Freddy because he decided Freddy needed to be hit, and not for Tim’s own satisfaction.

Dick can’t bring himself to disagree.

By the end of his run he feels sensible again. Calm. Rational.

It’s a good thing because the first thing he sees as he’s walking through the living room is Jason, standing out on the balcony, with a cigarette in hand.

Jason sees him too and freezes, terrified.

Dick sighs. Opens the sliding glass door just enough to say through the crack, “It’s fine, Jay, you’ve had a pretty shitty day. I understand.”

Jason stares at him like he’s trying to figure out whether it’s a trap or not. Dick just offers a small smile and shuts the door. He heads into the bathroom for a shower.

When he’s dressed again it’s late afternoon and any chance of squeezing in a nap before his shift tonight is out the window. It’s okay though, he’d gotten a couple hours before the call from the school woke him up, and he’s gone far longer with far less sleep in the past.

Jason and Tim are sitting on the couch watching TV and eating Chinese take-out leftovers. They’re on opposite ends and not talking, but there’s a markable difference in now compared to just a few days ago. They look slightly more comfortable in each other’s space. Dick is so relieved.

He almost doesn’t want to ruin it but there are things that need to be addressed, so he interrupts by turning off the TV. They both regard him warily (though Tim is serving him annoyed glare while Jason taps his fingers nervously).

“First off: no one’s in trouble,” Dick announces, and the boys relax some. “Tim, I get it. I shouldn’t be worried about… what I was worried about. Just don’t make a habit out of it, okay?”

Tim jerks his chin in understanding.

“Jason–”

“I’m sorry,” Jason blurts out. “I’m sorry you had to come to the school and deal with all of this, and for the cigarettes, and for not being strong enough to– I should have– I’ll be better, okay? I’ll be good and I’ll get good grades and I’ll be _better_ –”

Jason’s rush of words chokes off and he looks away, trying to blink back tears.

Quietly, Dick says, “Tim, why don’t you go to your room while Jason and I talk.”

Tim starts to stand but Jason lets out a panicked noise, and he hesitates. “Do you want me to stay?”

Looking like he hates himself for it, Jason nods.

Tim sits.

“Okay. That’s fine,” Dick says, and it is, even though it hurts him. Jason is so scared of him that he feels like he needs Tim there for protection. He tries to find the silver lining, which is that this means Jason trusts Tim, at least a little. More than he trusts Dick.

Catching Jason’s eye, he addresses each point very seriously but gently. “I’m not upset about having to come to the school. I’ll always come when you need me. It’s my job and it’s something I want to do. I’m not happy about the cigarette, but like I said, I understand– although I’d like to find something else to help you calm down. As for being stronger and better…”

Running a hand through his hair, Dick takes a seat on the recliner. “I’m sure whatever happened that made you panic like that… I’m sure you had a reason. I think I already have an idea of what happened, but can you tell me about it?”

Jason looks at him with uncertainty.

“Just walk me through your morning,” Dick coaxes. “Tell me about your teachers and classmates and stuff, and how it everything made you feel. Please, Jason. I know this is hard for you but I need you to talk to me right now.”

“I…” Jason swallows. “I couldn’t find my locker or the first class room for a while, so I was late.”

Tim guiltily looks down at his lap.

“I got in trouble for talking… But I got a hundred on the assignment.”

Frowning, Tim supplies, “It wasn’t his fault he got in trouble though. The first time I was asking him for a pen, and then he was asking for help because Miss Anderson and Laura Cantoni were gossiping about her date and made it hard to hear the documentary.”

“This is what I want to know, Jason,” Dick says. “I want to know _why_ you got in trouble. Which, in this case, it sounds like you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Jason sits up straighter. He starts talking, voice growing louder as he goes. He talks about how his morning went and there’s not a lot of detail, especially about just how stressed every little thing made him, but Dick is good at reading between the lines. What Dick is gathering is that his teachers made him feel bad and stupid and refused to help him the way he needed to be helped.

“We ran in gym and I was already feeling–” Jason makes a frustrated sound and shakes his hands in front of himself in a gesture Dick guesses is supposed to mean _anxious,_ “and for some reason it just made it worse and then I had to shower with everyone which was just the worst and then it was lunchtime but I couldn’t eat and I felt like shit and Freddy walked up and said what he did.

“The whole morning everyone was staring at me and judging me and, like, I don’t give a shit about that except I guess I kinda do because I hated it, and I kept sayin’ to myself how I need to get good grades and do well and all, but none of the teachers liked me and I had no idea what was going on. I was just really nervous and confused and pissed off and everything sucked and then when that kid said that… I just. It was too much and everything boiled over and I couldn’t–” Jason breaks off.

That’s probably the most Dick has heard from Jason at one time. It’s definitely the most open he’s been. It’s damn good progress.

“And that’s when you got sick?” Dick clarifies, and Jason nods. “What were some of your other symptoms?”

When Jason frowns, confused, Tim offers, “Shaking, sweating, unsteadiness.”

“Were you dizzy? Heart racing? Feeling really scared?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay. Do you understand why that happened? What that was?”

Jason shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You had a panic attack.”

“I don’t… know what to do with that,” Jason says, twisting the hem of his shirt. “Like, there’s a word for it. Okay. What good does that do me?”

“Now that I know exactly what it was and what caused it, I can help.”

“How?”

“First, I can get rid of some of the stressors. The rest, we can figure out some techniques to help you through it when the anxiety hits.”

“Get rid of…” Jason frowns.

Dick rubs his left hand with his right. Leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. Carefully, “I think I was pushing for too much too fast. We both were. Jason… I don’t think you’re ready for public school.”

“What?” Jason asks faintly, eyes wide. “Yes I am, I– I’ll be fine, I swear! _I can do it,”_ he promises desperately.

“That doesn’t mean you _should_. Please just listen to me for a second,” Dick says because Jason is starting to freak out, legs bouncing and fingers tapping doubletime. “Right now you’re adjusting to living with new people you barely know, in a different environment from what you’ve been raised in. You’ve lost your parents. You don’t fully trust me yet. You don’t feel settled here. All of this would be hard for anyone to deal with, let alone a thirteen year-old. Adding the academic and societal pressures of junior high on top is too much to ask of yourself.

“This isn’t because you’re not smart enough or strong enough or good enough. You just need to slow down and take it one thing at a time. Get to a point where you’re comfortable here, with us, first. Get a handle on your anxiety before putting yourself in a stressful situation like school.”

“So, what, I’m just not gonna go to school? I _need_ to go, I’m already so behind,” Jason says miserably.

“I think,” Dick says, idea forming as he says it, “we can get you caught up without you having to go back. I’ll find out what the curriculum says you need to know and then maybe find a tutor, or _I_ could help you… You could start out with just one or two subjects and add more as you feel comfortable. We’ll get you caught up so that by the time you feel ready to go to school, you’re ready.”

Tim asks, “So, like homeschool?”

Dick smiles. “Exactly.”

“That’s… something that could happen?” Jason’s voice is small and confused and torn, but there’s also something hesitantly hopeful in it that makes Dick instantly sure that this is going to be _right._

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t–” He pulls his legs up and curls into himself. “You don’t have to do all that for me, it’s too much work.”

He’s said stuff like this before and usually Dick lets it slide or lightly assures him it’s not a big deal because he thought anything else would scare Jason off, but apparently it’s not getting through so this time he puts it straight out. “Jason, I want you to be happy. I will do anything I can to help you with anything you need. It’s not a problem for me to do this for you. Please let me help you.”

“Why?” Jason whispers.

“Because I care about you,” he answers honestly. When Jason stays quiet Dick asks, “Does homeschooling seem like something you might be interested in?”

Jason clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Dick,” Jason says. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

~

They spend the few hours before Dick has to leave for work in the living room, all of them together, watching TV. Every half hour Tim and Jason play rock, paper, scissors over who gets to decide what show they watch next.

Jason picks up pretty quickly what kind of shows Tim likes ( _Night Rider_ ) and doesn’t like ( _The Love Boat_ ), and always picks the ones he knows will have Tim pouting.

Tim could just leave. He doesn’t.

They bicker over _Full House_ so loudly Dick can’t even follow what’s happening in the episode. He loves it.

That night he’s able to leave them with a smile on his face. They’re not best friends– far from it– but he doesn’t feel like he needs to worry about them fighting while he’s gone.

Jason isn’t completely comfortable, doesn’t trust Dick as much as he would like, but he’s not worried about whether or not Jason will still be there in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing how y'all are affected by this story, how you can relate to certain things. Like I don't like that you're suffering of course but it's kind of really special to have people connecting to my work like that, you know? Anyway feed me your tears <3
> 
> Seriously your comments give me life I love you all 
> 
> Next chapter: Barbara returns!


	9. 1.9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the tension drains from him the instant they step inside the library. It’s a large, old building made of stone and wood and the warm, musky vanilla scent of aged books. There are the sounds of people: walking across carpet, flipping pages, murmuring softly, opening a water bottle. All low and muted in contrast to the outside. He feels safe here– _safer_ , at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, how long has it been? A few days? A week?  
> ...  
> O_O  
>  _Anyway_ , sorry, I lost focus for a while, and I can't promise that won't ever happen again, but I'm super dedicated to this fic so please bear with me <33

When Jason wakes up at a decent hour he immediately decides to roll over and go back to sleep. When he wakes up a little later than usual he contemplates getting up, but twenty seconds later he’s pulling his blanket over his head to block the morning light coming in through the window. The third or fourth or maybe fifth time he cracks his eyes open he realises it’s not getting better, he’s still exhausted and no amount of extra sleep will help. His body is worn out like he ran twenty miles yesterday instead of one. He feels dried up. He feels hollowed out. He feels thick and gummy and heavy and his skin hurts. Apparently being stressed the fuck out all day and having a panic attack really does a number on you. Who knew.

He would feel embarrassed about the whole thing but he’s too tired. Empty.

When he climbs down the ladder from the top bunk he sees Tim is still asleep too even though it’s way past time to be up for school, but then remembers he got suspended for two weeks. For punching Freddy Lin. For Jason.

Jason’s never had anyone stand up to someone in his defense before. He has no idea why Tim did that.

He has no idea why Dick is doing any of this. Last night Dick said he cares about him, but. Why? Why would he care about Jason, some kid he’s only known for a few weeks, when Jason’s own parents didn’t even care about him?

(Well, his mom cared. She did. She was just… sick.)

Jason has been asking _why_ for weeks. It’s tiring.

He goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. There’s a cup next to the sink with three toothbrushes in it: one red, one green, and one blue. Jason’s is the green one. He takes a shower. The stall is wet inside; Dick must already be home from work. Of course he is, it’s late; Jason slept so long. He gets dressed in the clothes he brought into the bathroom with him. He can’t change in his and Tim’s bedroom, not with Tim still in there, even if he is sleeping.

When he goes through the living room and into the kitchen to make tea he’s grateful that Dick isn’t out there and the door to his room is shut; Jason can’t handle talking to anyone, or even being in the vicinity of another person just yet. He takes the mug of steaming tea out to the balcony, sits on the concrete floor and looks out over the city through the black, metal bars of the railing. He wants a smoke, but it’s more about the need to have something to do with his hands. The motion of lighting a cigarette and holding it up to his lips and tapping the ash away is more soothing sometimes than whatever he’s inhaling. Instead he wraps his hands around the too-hot ceramic and blinks slowly at the weak sun behind the clouds, at the crows on the fire-escape opposite. He sits out there in the chilly morning air until the tea is gone and some of his mental fog with it.

He failed. He wasn’t good enough to go to school and he messed everything up. Dick said it’s okay and they’ll try something else and he can go back when he’s ready, but that doesn’t make Jason feel any better about himself. He could have– _should_ have– done things differently. He could have acted better and made the teachers like him and kept calm and handled everything right. No matter what Dick says, Jason knows he could’ve been better. And now Dick has to come in and fix it for him.

Homeschooling.

Jason’s not sure how he feels about that. He has no idea what it’ll be like. Except… in all the time he wasn’t in school he was going to the library and reading whatever he could and learning things he was interested in. So maybe it will be like that. A little. That could be okay.

And he is privately unbelievably relieved that he won’t be going back to public school. Back to uncaring teachers and mean kids and a whole world he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t really know this world either, one where he’s warm and full and safe and people act like they care, but it’s one he hopes he can grow into.

The sliding glass door squeaks softly as he opens it, and then again as it shuts behind him. Dick is there, leaning against the counter and sipping coffee. He looks up and gives a small smile. “Heya, buddy. You feeling okay?”

“Fi–” the word gets caught in his throat and he clears it out. “Fine.”

“Fine enough to go out?”

Jason doesn’t want to go anywhere, but he can’t make himself say no. What he can manage is, “Go where?”

“The library.”

Oh. “Yes.” That’s different. That’s something he feels up to doing because he doesn’t need to be up to it. The library brings him up when he’s down. “Together? Why?”

“Well, I don’t know how to homeschool,” Dick says with a rueful shake of the head, “and when you need to know something you go to the library. Also there’s someone that works there I really want to introduce you to.”

“A friend of yours?”

“One of my best. Her name’s Barbara and she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Do you want to grab some breakfast on the way?”

Jason picks up a banana from the fruit bowl. “This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not very hungry.” Actually he is, but his stomach is still unsettled from yesterday and he doesn’t think he can eat much right now. Maybe not even the banana.

“If you change your mind just let me know. You ready to go?”

Jason quickly shoves his feet into his boots and ties up the laces. “Yup.”

“Do you want me to wake up Tim and have him come with us?”

It’s asked casually, and Jason can’t see any resentment in Dick’s expression, but he remembers the night before when he wanted Tim to stay, when he didn’t feel comfortable being alone with Dick. Jason looks at the floor. “No. It’s okay.”

“Alright then.” And with that they’re out the door.

Outside is too loud: car engines roaring and puttering, honks, brakes screeching; people chatting and heels stomping the pavement; a dog barking. Everyone and everything makes noise and the culmination of it rattles into Jason’s ears and through his body– his very tired body that’s been rattled enough in the past twenty-four hours and doesn’t need more. He’s glad to be wearing the jacket that he put on when he got dressed this morning, and not so much because of the cold; he would feel too exposed if he didn’t have the sleeves to cover his arms and a hood to drape over his head and big pockets to shove his hands deep inside. He had put it on to hide the scratches on his arms from yesterday. Tim and Dick have already seen them but Jason doesn’t want to look at them and be reminded of hiding in the school library, crying. Being weak.

It’s only a few blocks to the Gotham City Library so they walk. Jason stays quiet and Dick doesn’t push for conversation.

Some of the tension drains from him the instant they step inside the library. It’s a large, old building made of stone and wood and the warm, musky vanilla scent of aged books. There are the sounds of people: walking across carpet, flipping pages, murmuring softly, opening a water bottle. All low and muted in contrast to the outside. He feels safe here– _safer,_ at least.

Dick heads for the desk and speaks briefly with the man behind the counter, then gestures for Jason to follow to the bibliography section where there’s a woman sliding books into place on the shelves. She turns to watch them approach. “Have you brought that overdue book this time?”

“You know I have no idea where it is, Babs.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually,” she says, then looks at Jason. “Hello.”

“Hi. I’m Jason.”

“Barbara. Nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t try to shake his hand, and he’s grateful.

“I’m going to talk to Barbara for a while,” Dick says. “You’re welcome to stick around but you can go look around if you want.”

“Okay sure, I’ll go…” Jason thumbs over his shoulder. The fantasy section is calling for him. He leaves them to their conversation and dives deeper into the rows. He picks up several books he doesn’t recognise, with monsters and knights and magic on the covers, and puts them all back.

He’s about to give up and go visit the classics aisle when something catches his eye on the bottom shelf. The cover art is of a mouse holding up a sword and shield, the lettering and overall look of it giving off a medieval feel. It’s intriguing. Jason’s never read a book about a mouse with a sword before. So he flips through the pages, inhaling that sweet smell. He scans the praise quotes on the first page. There’s a map just before the story begins, which means it’ll be an adventure. Turning to a random page Jason lets his eyes roam over the words until one line pops out at him: _Even the strongest and bravest must sometimes weep. It shows they have a great heart, one that can feel compassion for others._

Jason reads it again. And again.

_Even the strongest and bravest must sometimes weep._

With one hand he holds the book open and with the other he touches the place on his arm where, underneath the jacket sleeve, there are scratches. _Hiding in the school library, crying. Being weak._

Jason sits down and turns back to the start of chapter one.

~

“Hey.” Reluctantly, Jason drags his eyes up from the page. Dick is standing over him, but a few feet away. “Found something good?” he asks.

Closing the book, Jason answers, “Yeah,” but he holds it close against his front, hands blocking Dick from seeing what it is. It’s silly but he doesn’t want Dick to know what Jason is reading because then it feels like Dick will know more about Jason, and that makes him uncomfortable.

Maybe Dick gets the message or maybe he just doesn’t care because he only smiles and tilts his head toward the front. “I’m finished here. You wanna check out and we’ll go?”

“I– I don’t have a library card.” Kids need a parent or whatever to get a card, and Jason’s weren’t willing or able to do it, so he’s used to just coming in and reading and putting the book back on the shelf, hoping it won’t be checked out the next day so he can finish it. He doesn’t mind much. Better to spend his time indoors in a relatively safe place than take the books home.

But things are different now, aren’t they.  

“Oh,” says Dick. “Well come on then, let’s go get you one.”

Just like that. Like it’s nothing.

Clutching the book, Jason stands and follows him to the desk. The woman, Barbara, is there. She’s talking to a man with two kids hanging off his arms, so they wait in line. Keeping his voice low, Dick tells Jason, “Babs helped me get started. There’s this book,” he shows him, “that has reviews and stuff for the different curriculum out there, and when I decide which one would be best I can call and order it from a catalog. She also said there are a few families that homeschool that come in all the time, if you’re ever interested in meeting them. They do lessons together.”

Jason must make a face because Dick quickly says, “You don’t have to. Just wanted to let you know the option is there.”

When the man and his kids move away Dick steps forward. “Babs, can we get Jason signed up for a card?”

“Sure,” she says, reaching down somewhere under the counter for a form. While Dick fills it out she turns to Jason. “From what I understand, the curriculum does most of the teaching, so you’ll be able to do a lot of the work by yourself. But if there’s anything you need help with you can ask me.”

Dick finishes writing and she takes the paper and inputs the information into the computer, keys clacking.

“Is that part of a librarian’s job?” Jason asks.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind being your tutor.”

Jason frowns. Why would this lady he’s only just met want to help teach him?

As if she’s reading his mind, Barbara says, “I owe Dick a favor anyway. This would make us even.”

Dick starts, “You d–” but she cuts him off.

“Richard.” Barbara levels him with a stern look while she pulls out a small plastic card and scans the barcode.

Dick glances away after a long moment. He gives Jason a half grin. “Yeah, she owes me, so just ask her anything. Like I said, she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“Um. Sure, okay,” Jason says, looking between the two of them. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She waves his new library card. “Now what are you checking out?”

He hands her the book and she scans it, then sets the card on top and slides them back over. “All set. I hope I’ll see you soon, Jason.”

As they leave the library Jason’s stomach growls unhappily, and he thinks about what he can eat when they get home. There’s still some Chinese take-out in the fridge… His gut recoils at just the thought. He’s eaten more fast-food and delivery in the last three weeks than he did in the past three years. He’s not used to it, and he feels like crap already today, and what he really wants is comfort food. What his mom used to cook when he was too little to do it himself, or when she had good days.

He asks, “Can we stop at the grocery store?” but he says it too softly to be heard over the city noise, and Dick asks him to repeat himself, and Jason swallows nervously but says it again.

Dick looks pleasantly surprised, and agrees easily. When they walk into the store Dick takes a moment to assure Jason that he can get _as much as_ _he wants._

Jason picks up a basket. He usually doesn’t buy more than he can hold at one time, but he figures he can indulge a bit, feeling marginally okay with it since Dick said that. Besides, he’s used to only feeding himself, but now there’s Tim and Dick too, so he’ll need more. The first thing he gets is a bag of rice. He reaches for the one pound bag, then reconsiders, and instead gets the five pounder. Then he takes two steps down to the beans.

“Wow,” Dick says, scanning the shelves. “I had no idea there were so many different kinds of beans. Which ones do you like?”

“All of them,” Jason answers with a shrug as he selects one package each of pinto, navy, and black beans.

Excitedly, Dick says, “Well then let’s get all of them,” and grabs a dozen others until the basket on Jason’s arm is overflowing. “Hang on, I’m gonna go get us a cart!”

Jason stands there in the aisle, blinking stupidly, until Dick comes racing back, riding a shopping cart like a little kid. He transfers all the bags into the cart and smiles at Jason. “What else?”

“Um. Noodles?”

“Noodles!” Dick crows, pushing off down the aisle.

They make their way through the store, Jason hesitantly taking things off the shelf and dropping them into the cart when Dick smiles encouragingly. A few times he has to argue with Dick that the store brand is just as good as the name brand, and there isn’t any reason to pay more for the same thing.

He’s never bought this much food at once in his whole life.

Dick grabs some stuff too, commenting how, “Tim loves chicken nuggets,” and, “I always have cereal for breakfast,” as if Jason hadn’t noticed by now.

Jason goes a little wild in the produce section. He gets carrots and an onion and four apples and a bunch of bananas and two oranges and grapes and even _cherries._ He eyes the strawberries for half a second before deciding he’s really being too greedy, and they’re too expensive. After he turns away, from the corner of his eye, he sees Dick put a box of strawberries into the cart.

They’re stuck with a lot of bags to haul home, but Jason’s too giddy to care about the weight, and besides, it’s only half a block.

Tim’s watching tv on the couch when they get to the apartment, kicking off their shoes by the door and dropping the shopping bags on the table. Jason starts putting away the groceries and Dick helps. The comotion attracts Tim’s attention, pulling him from an episode of _Get Smart._

“Are you… going to cook this?” Tim asks, sounding baffled by the idea.

Pausing on the way to the pantry, packs of pasta in hand, Jason answers, “That’s what people do with food, Tim.”

Dick cuts off any argument Tim may have had to that. “You don’t have to,” he says very earnestly.

“...If I want to eat them I do,” Jason answers.

“I just. I don’t want you to feel obligated to cook, or– or anything. You don’t have to _do_ anything to stay here.”

Jason remembers, back in Bruce Wayne’s library, when Dick first invited them to stay and Jason asked what he would need to do to earn that. His cheeks burn with embarrassment now. It wasn’t a crazy thing to ask, from what he knew at the time, but now that he knows Dick better, it’s ridiculous. And it’s stupid that Dick still worries Jason might think that way.

He forces himself to meet Dick’s eyes. “I know.”

Dick must see that he means it, because he instantly looks like a weight has been lifted. “Good. That’s great. Um.” He checks his watch. “Do you need help with any of this? It’s about time for me to head to bed, but I can lend a hand if you want.”

Jason laughs. “I think the only way you could help prepare a meal is by giving me the phone number for delivery.”

“I can’t even argue with that,” Dick says, cracking a smile. “Okay, well then I’m going to go to sleep. Good night.”

“It’s noon,” Tim says to his retreating back.

“It’s night for me!” Dick calls, and then his bedroom door clicks shut.

Tim watches as Jason puts away the last of the food, except for the rice and navy beans. “So… what are you gonna do with those?”

“Cook them?”

“Yeah, but like… how?”

Pulling out one medium and one small sized pot (he had been surprised to find Dick and Tim owned cookware but apparently Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred, had made sure they were stocked on all necessities, even though they neither one used them), he says, “I can show you.”

The _Get Smart_ theme song plays in the living room.

Tim sits at the table. “Cool.”

Jason starts the rice first, narrating each step as he goes. He puts on the water to boil on the stove top and then comes back to the table. “The rice will be done in thirty minutes but the beans will take a few hours.”

Tim’s eyes bug out. “You’re gonna be in here cooking all day!”

Jason grins. “It’s actually not that much work. Once they get going you just leave it, come back to stir occasionally. Now, wanna help me sort?”

He opens the bag and dumps the beans out on the tabletop. “Look for bad beans or clumps of dirt.”

“Why is there dirt in our food?”

“Because it came from the ground.”

Tim doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but he moves on. “What do bad beans look like?”

“You’ll know when you see one.” Jason pulls a small mound toward himself and scans each bean, then puts the ones that pass inspection in the pot. Across from him, Tim does the same. They work in silence for a minute, and then for some reason Jason is compelled to say, “I used to help my mom do this. She taught me math with them.”

Tim looks up. “Really?”

“Yeah. She…” She taught him how to count and add and subtract. She used to have Jason count out loud how many beans he put in the pot. She would line up rows of beans and slide some away, or add more, and ask Jason how many were left. Jason wants to say all of this, but he can’t. So he doesn’t. His sentence hangs unfinished in the air between them, but Tim seems to understand that’s the end of it for now, and he doesn’t push.

Quiet again, then, “I don’t think my mom taught me like that. My dad either,” Tim says, glancing at Jason, and looking down again. “I think Mrs. Mac taught me some stuff, but I don’t really remember much from back then.”

“Mrs. Mac?”

“My… nanny, I guess.” Before Jason can comment on that, Tim changes the subject. “Why do you make beans if you have to sort out bad ones and clumps of dirt? Seems like a lot of work.”

The water on the stove starts to boil, so Jason adds the rice and turns down the heat. “They’re cheap. This bag only cost thirty-nine cents and it’ll last a while.” Jason considers the fact that there will be three young men eating them. “Well. Maybe a couple days.”

“You don’t have to base all your choices now around what’s cheapest. We can afford stuff.”

Yes he does. He does need to base all his choices around what’s cheapest because that’s what he’s always done and that’s just how is brain works. He can’t imagine doing anything differently. And why should he? Just because they _can_ waste money doesn’t mean they _should._ That last part he says to Tim, adding, “Besides, I like beans.”

Tim sighs. “Whatever, man. Just remember Dick will get you pretty much anything you want.”

“Yeah, it was _so weird_ ,” Jason says, scooping the last of the beans into the pot and then taking it over to the sink to wash them. “He really did let me get whatever I wanted. I even had to talk him down from buying too much. Crazy.”

There’s no response, and Jason glances over his shoulder. Tim is giving him a strange look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Tim shakes his head.

He gets the feeling Tim is being careful with him, which makes him a little indignant, but he’s just too tired to do anything about it, and honestly part of him is grateful for it. A _tiny_ part.

Closing his eyes, Jason drags his hand through the cool water, hard, smooth beans sliding across his palm and between his fingers. He’s always loved this part.

Behind him, Tim’s chair screeches softly against the floor. “Hey, I gotta go do something. I’ll be back later.”

“Before dark?”

“Yeah. Before dark. Bye, Jason.”

“Bye, Tim.”

The front door shuts.

Jason drains the murky water from the pot and refills it.

~

Jason curls up with a bowl of rice in his lap and his new library book. He takes a bite and flips to the page he left off at.

He’s still exhausted, and drained, and anxious about a lot of things, but for now he feels a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million points to anyone who guesses what Tim is off to do! Hint: he has two objectives. 
> 
> I know I haven't been replying to your comments but please be assured they mean the world to me!!


	10. 1.10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Oh,_ ” Jason says, and his voice is so small. It kind of breaks Tim’s heart, how lost he sounds. Or, rather, found. Like he’s been lost for a really long time and now, just in this moment, he sees… not a way out. But the fact that there _is_ a way out. That what he’s lived with his whole life isn’t the way things have to be, and there’s a chance he could have something better, even if he doesn’t know how to get there.
> 
> That’s okay. Tim and Dick can help point him in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHHHHH okay so this chapter wraps up part one of three, so a very rough estimate for the whole fic is thirty chapters.
> 
> Someone asked about the book I referenced in the last chapter and so for that person and anyone else who's interested, that quote is from _Redwall_ of the Redwall series, which is one of my very favorites and means a whole heck of a lot to me. If you want to check it out I recommend starting with _Martin the Warrior_. 
> 
> I want to say that while this a fic about healing and whatnot, I really don't want it to be a how-to on dealing with trauma and mental issues because not only am I not qualified to write something like that, I also don't want to go to that far in-depth. I'm trying to show the process of recovery but it's not a standard or guideline and I'm going general or specific about different things. 
> 
> Also, please feel free to point out any grammatical mistakes you see! I'm just a tired, unbetad dyslexic o_O

Barbara looks mildly shocked to see Tim walk into the Gotham City library, which isn’t surprising. In the past, on the very rare occasion Tim wanted to read a book, he could find one in his parents’ personal library and then later Bruce’s. When he needs to do research for school work (the completion of which is, again, a rare occasion) he can usually use Dick’s computer to go online. It’s not as awesome as Batman’s (oh, how he misses the Batcave) but it’s better than the ones at the library or the school.

Speaking of the school, he has roughly four hours until it’s cleared out. He can learn a lot in four hours, and then the real fun begins.

He could have used the computer in Dick’s room for this, he’s sure he could find websites with similar information, but he wouldn’t have had privacy in the apartment, not with Jason there. Not that he thinks Jason would have stood over his shoulder the whole time, but he might have been curious about what Tim was doing, or at least interested in the computer. He doesn’t think Jason’s used one much, if at all. Also, he’s a little wary of using the internet on Dick’s computer after the last time. One would think that a man who spent half his life being trained by Batman would remember to clear his browsing history…

Tim shudders.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Barbara asks.

“Working on a personal project.”

“Why didn’t you come with Dick and Jason earlier?”

“It’s a _personal_ personal project.”

She doesn’t ask any more questions about it other than, “Need any help?”

“Thanks, I’m good.” He starts to walk away but hesitates. “How’s the nightlife?”

Without Nightwing and Robin, Gotham’s streets are only being patrolled by Batman and Batgirl, and they don’t actually work _together_ that much. Barbara has always been content to work outside of Bruce’s umbrella.

“It’s fine. B’s asked for my help a few times. I think he hasn’t adjusted to not having a partner anymore.”

That stings, but Tim appreciates her honesty. “He’s okay though?”

Barbara pauses, considering. “Okay by his standards. But has he ever really been okay?”

Tim looks down at the worn rug. “I guess not. That’s why– why he needs…”

_Batman needs a Robin._

“Hey,” Barbara says, and her tone demands that Tim look up at her. “It’s not _you_ that he needs, alright? He needs help, but not the kind he thinks, not the kind found by putting a child in danger. It’s not your job or your responsibility to fix him.” She takes a deep breath, and releases it, and with it goes some of the anger in the lines around her mouth. “Just don’t worry too much about it. Be a kid. Ride your skateboard. Go to school. That’s all you need to think about. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tim echoes quietly. That’s _not_ all he needs to think about, he wants to say. He’s thinking about Jason and how to help him. Hell, that’s the whole reason he’s here right now, to learn how to help Jason. Isn’t it his responsibility to help Jason? He feels like it is. Dick has made it seem that way. If he can help Jason, then why not Bruce too? Maybe it shouldn’t be his job to help Bruce, but it _could_ be, and he can’t stop thinking about that.

He doesn’t say any of that. He just says, “Be safe out there,” and moves off into the shelves.

He starts with more analytical sources, mostly medical texts, to get a baseline of the physical and psychological symptoms of PTSD, anxiety, and any other thing he thinks Jason might be suffering. Then he pulls out titles like, _Allies in Healing_ and _The Courage to Heal_.

Engrossed, he almost misses his window of opportunity, but checks his watch just in time to leave the library and make it to the school after all the students and staff have gone, but still with enough time to do what he needs to do and get home before dark.

At the start of the semester Vice Principal Wheeler had boasted to the student body about the new security he’d had installed around the building over the winter break. It basically boiled down to new locks and a few cameras.

As he picks the lock of a side door, sneaks through the building easily avoiding the cameras, and lets himself into Mr. Wheeler’s office, Tim thinks he’d love to see the man’s face if he ever discovered how his state-of-the-art security crumbled before a twelve year-old. A twelve year-old with special training, sure, but still.

Cracking his knuckles, Tim settles into the vice principal’s chair and fires up the computer. It doesn’t take long to get what he came for, and soon he’s dropping a freshly loaded floppy disk into his pocket.

Before he leaves Tim removes a few critical screws at just the right points from Wheeler’s office chair. It _looks_ fine, just managing to hold itself together, but that’ll change the second Wheeler sits down tomorrow morning.

He slips out the way he came and gets home just as the sun is setting.

When Tim walks through the door he’s hit with the warm, hearty smell of _food_. He groans, stomach rumbling and eager. “What is that?”

“Arroz y frijoles,” Jason answers. He and Dick are sitting at the table, each hunched over a bowl.

“Qué? Hablo poco Español.” Tim is surprised he remembers even that much from Mr. Fairfield’s class.

Jason shakes his head pityingly. “Dios mío.”

Dick laughs. “You barely know more than he does!”

“En Español, por favor,” Jason tuts in disapproval.

Dick releases a string of fast, fluent Spanish.

When he’s finished Jason gives a slow blink and says, “Sí,” even though he clearly didn’t follow, and pointedly turns his attention toward Tim. “It’s rice and beans,” he explains, waving toward the two pots sitting on the stovetop.

Tim loads up a bowl of his own and takes the last empty chair. Thinking back over what he learned today, about being encouraging and appreciative and how important that is for people like Jason, Tim says, “Thank you for cooking.”

Both Dick and Jason look up at him.

He clears his throat. Takes a bite. “It’s really good.”

“Thanks,” Jason says, wary, like he thinks Tim might be up to something.

It makes Tim sad that someone would be so surprised and even suspicious of something as simple as a compliment, but it is unusual, probably, for Jason to receive one. Unusual, too, for Tim to give one so freely. Those books he read talked about compliments and patience and emotional support and he knows it’s something he’ll have to work at. It doesn’t come naturally to him. But he realises now just how little effort he’s always put in toward just… being kind.

Tim swallows. The food really does taste good.

Dick’s giving him this big, proud smile that makes Tim want to crawl under the table.

They eat quietly for a few minutes and then, with a, “Thanks again, Jay,” Dick quickly rinses his empty dish in the sink and goes to get dressed for work.

“I got something for you,” Tim says when his door shuts. “I’ll show you after Dick leaves.”

Jason’s face screws up in distaste. “You bought me something?”

“No, no, I didn’t pay a dime,” Tim assures him, and Jason’s expression eases, though it’s still not entirely comfortable.

“Does that mean you stole it?”

“N– actually, yeah.” Tim laughs.

Jason’s eyes go huge. “You _what?_ Seriously?”

Tim just shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“But what if you get caught,” Jason asks, voice lowered but strained, glancing toward Dick’s room.

“Don’t freak out, Dick wouldn’t get mad about this.” Maybe. Tim’s not supposed to be doing Robin things, or breaking the rules just because he can, but Dick might get a kick out of it this time. Maybe Tim will show him someday.

“He’s a cop! Why wouldn’t he flip shit about his– his brother doing something _illegal_?”

“Because Dick is the best,” Tim answers simply. Dick’s not perfect, like Tim used to think he was, but he is still the best person Tim’s ever known.

Jason opens his mouth to argue, but then he deflates. “Yeah,” he says softly. “He is, isn’t he.”

Jason goes quiet, staring into space, and then, like he’s been holding the words in too long, “I don’t get it.” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. He looks so tired. “I don’t know why Dick is so nice to me. He lets me buy whatever I want and tries to _talk_ to me and– and he’s gonna homeschool me, for fuck’s sake. I just _don’t get it._ ”

“That’s what paren– people are supposed to do,” Tim says slowly, but with emphasis. “If anyone does anything else… that’s wrong.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Jason says, and his voice is so small. It kind of breaks Tim’s heart, how lost he sounds. Or, rather, found. Like he’s been lost for a really long time and now, just in this moment, he sees… not a way out. But the fact that there _is_ a way out. That what he’s lived with his whole life isn’t the way things have to be, and there’s a chance he could have something better, even if he doesn’t know how to get there.

That’s okay. Tim and Dick can help point him in the right direction.  

~

“Are you serious?”

“Trust me,” Tim says as he peers through the microwave door, watching the bag inflate, the crescendo of pops music to his ears. “It’ll be worth the wait. This’ll totally be a popcorn moment.”

Jason leans on the kitchen counter and sighs. “We _just_ ate.”

“That was a whole ten minutes ago,” Tim argues. “We’re growing boys. Can you honestly tell me you don’t want popcorn right now?”

Jason just rolls his eyes and Tim takes that to mean yes, he does want popcorn, but he doesn’t want to admit Tim is right.

The microwave beeps and Tim snatches the bag. “Okay! It’s go time. Come on,” he says and leads the way into Dick’s room.

“Is it okay for us to be in here?” Jason asks, looking around the room like he expects Dick to come jumping out from somewhere even though they both watched him leave three minutes ago.

Tim assures him, “It’s cool,” and claims the chair at the desk. He pulls out the floppy disk and fires up the computer.

Tentatively, Jason sits on the edge of Dick’s bed.

“Here,” Tim says when he has the file pulled up and ready, “switch seats with me. I want you to see this up close, and,” he grins, “I’ve already seen it.”

Jason takes the chair and Tim stands just behind, looking over his shoulder. He rips open the popcorn and grabs a handful, then drops the bag in Jason’s lap.

“Here we go!”

Tim plays the video.

~

“It’s so beautiful,” Jason says, awed. He shoves more popcorn in his mouth. “It gets better every time, too.”

On screen, Tim grabs Freddy Lin and slams him down on the lunch table, right in Rebecca Sandusky's mashed potatoes.

“You’re so fast!”

Tim smiles. “Thanks. Here it comes...”

The security footage is in greyscale and the resolution is grainy, but it’s good enough to see the punch Tim lands to Freddy Lin’s stupid face.

“Holy shit,” Jason says. “I just wish there was sound.”

After the twelfth viewing Jason asks, “How the hell did you get this anyway?”

“Like I said, I stole it,” Tim answers, and Jason gives him a _go on_ look, so he explains, “I broke into the school and hacked Wheeler’s office computer.”

“You know how to do stuff like that?”

“I know how to do lots of stuff.”

“How?”

Tim shifts. He wants to tell the truth, but it’s not his truth to tell. Not entirely. It’s Dick’s and Bruce’s, and maybe someday they’ll decide to tell Jason everything, but it’s not for Tim to say. Not today.

Jason must pick up on his discomfort, and he understands pretty damn well, doesn’t he, about not wanting to talk about your past, so he changes the subject. He asks, “Can you show me?”

“What, how to fight?”

“I know how to fight,” Jason says with a scowl. Tim believes him, but it’s probably street fighting. He could learn a thing or two from Tim. Or maybe Dick would be better. “No, how to do this sort of shit. The hacking, and whatever.”

“Why? What would you do with knowing how to do that?” Tim suddenly remembers that Jason is technically a criminal. He tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. Would Bruce approve of teaching a thief how to hack computers? Tim decides he doesn’t care what Bruce would think because Bruce is not the general manager of the universe, as much as he tends to think he is, and he doesn’t actually make the rules and Tim doesn’t have to think about whether or not Batman would approve of his choices anymore. He knows Jason now, well enough to know that Jason only does what he needs to do to survive. As long as he’s here, with Dick and Tim to make sure he never lands in that sort of situation again, he won’t do anything bad. Jason doesn’t _want_ to do anything bad. He never did.

“Honestly? Probably nothing,” Jason says with a shrug. “I really can’t think of anything. But it seems really cool, and I like learning interesting things.”

He just _likes_ to _learn_ things. God, he’s such a nerd. “And you want to learn from _me?_ ”

“Why not? Unless…” he adds after a long moment of Tim just staring at him, “Unless you don’t want to. It’s fine.”

He starts doing that thing where he pulls into himself, bringing his legs up to wrap an arm around them, and Tim quickly says, “No! I mean, yes. I’ll teach you. That sounds rad.”

“You sure?” Jason asks slowly, but there’s this hope underlying the question that has Tim nodding right away.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

Jason smiles. “Okay cool. Thanks.”

Tim really can’t help but smile back. “No problem.”

Jason’s smiling at Tim and Tim’s smiling at Jason, and they sit there like that for a while and Tim can’t make it stop, and it feels weird because Tim is really happy that Jason is happy. He likes when people are happy, but this is way more special because Jason really hasn’t been happy for the past few weeks, and probably a lot longer. Jason shouldn’t have to be as sad as he’s been, and if something little like this can make him feel better, then Tim will do it. If he just needs to hear someone say he’s doing well and isn’t a waste of space, Tim will say it over and over. Tim just wants to help.

Eventually Jason glances away and clears his throat. He plays the clip again.

“Man, this is so _awesome._ ”

“Told you it was popcorn-worthy.”

Tim gets a handful of popcorn to the face for that.

“Hey! I’m not cleaning that up!”

They stay up late watching Freddy Lin get his ass kicked over and over, and then watch regular tv for a while (even though it isn’t nearly as entertaining) before going to bed with a happy, sleepy, “Goodnight, Tim,” and “Goodnight, Jason.”

In the morning Tim shuffles to the kitchen for breakfast to find Dick and Jason sitting at the table. They’re looking at a book together.

Dick’s saying, “So I’m going to go ahead and order the whole curriculum and then you can decide which classes you want to start with, and I’ll put the rest aside until you’re ready for them. Sound good?”

Nodding, Jason bites into a strawberry. “‘S fine. Thanks.”

Tim pulls out a box of Toaster Strudels from the freezer and asks very casually, “Is computer science part of the curriculum?”

Jason only freezes for a second before he keeps chewing.

Dick looks away from the book to Tim. “Hm, I don’t think that’s included until high school. Why?”

(Sometimes Tim lies because he needs to.)

He could just say, _Jason and I were talking about computers and he asked me to teach him about them…_

(But sometimes Tim lies because it’s fun.)

“I just thought it’d be cool to teach Jason about computers.” He pops the pastries in the toaster and puts on the tiniest pout as he says, “I thought we could, like, bond. Or whatever.”

Dick Grayson the vigilante and cop has a finely-tuned bullshit detector.

But Dick Grayson the big brother has a soft spot for Tim, and Jason, and Tim-and-Jason.

Also Tim’s a pretty good liar.

He can practically see Dick melt inside.

“That would be great!” Dick says. “Do you want to do that, Jason?”

Jason bites down on something Tim thinks is a smile. “Um. Yeah, sure.”

Dick starts flipping through the book. “I could probably order the class. There’s no reason he can’t do it early. Wait, this isn’t the catalogue. I need to order the catalog. Okay, I’m going to go order the catalogue. This’ll be great!”

Dick jumps up and out of the room.

“Why’d you do that?” Jason asks.

“As long as you’re learning it, you may as well get school credit for it.” The Toaster Strudels pop up and Tim sets them on a plate. He rips open the icing packet and drizzles it on.

“I don’t think a computer science course covers hacking security footage.”

“So I’ll be adding fun stuff to the curriculum.” Tim shrugs. “We’ll call it extra credit.”

Dick pops his head back into the kitchen. “Oh and speaking of computers, what were you doing on mine?”

Jason freezes more obviously this time.

Tim moves so that he’s standing mostly between them, so Dick can’t see Jason give anything away. “What makes you think I was on it?”

Dick gives Tim a flat look. “I know when someone’s been in my room. I found a piece of popcorn on the floor.”

Damn. Foiled by his own popcorn.

Actually, foiled by Jason throwing the popcorn. Whatever.

“Look, it’s fine,” Dick continues. “Just be careful about what… what you’re doing on there.”  

He could tell Dick exactly what he used his computer for, but sometimes Tim lies just because it’s fun. Especially lying to _Batman_ and _Nightwing._ Especially _twice in a row._ He’s on a roll this morning.

Sitting down, Tim takes a bite. Licks icing off the corner of his lip. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Dick gives him a look that screams, _don’t make me say it,_ but Tim just looks back expectantly, eating his yummy breakfast.

Dick sighs, a heavy, tortured thing. “If you _are_ finding porn on the computer–” everyone in the room winces, “then please just know that most of the stuff you’ll see out there is really unrealistic and not always healthy, and certainly not an accurate depiction of what sex should or will be.”

“So… stay away from the kinky stuff, is what you’re telling me,” Tim says. Dick nods. “I think you should take your own advice, Dick.”

“All I’m saying is you need to be carefull.”

“All _I’m_ saying is that before last month I didn’t know it’s possible to fit two dicks in one ass, but I do now.”

“ _What?_ ” Dick yelps.

“You really should clear out your browser history every once in a while.”

Dick lets out a faint, “Oh _god_ ,” and leaves again.

Finishing the rest of one of the Toaster Strudels, Tim finally looks back over to Jason, who’s completely red in the face. “I think that went well, don’t you?”

“You’re crazy,” Jason tells him. Then he laughs.

It’s a nice laugh.

“Who isn’t,” Tim says with a shrug.

Jason looks at his plate and the remaining pastry on it. “Is that actually good? I’ve never tried one.”

“You want it?”

He hesitates a second, but then, “Sure, thanks.”

Tim slides it over. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was gonna read.” Jason takes a bite.

“ _Boring._ ”

“Hey, Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate this.”

“What? It’s like a Poptart!”

“I hate Poptarts too! I only ate them because that’s all there was around here.”

“Now _you’re_ crazy,” Tim insists, making grabby hands. “Give me that. Have fun with your _fruit_ and your _books._ Or…”

“Or?”

“We could go get you come new clothes.”

Jason rubs at the huge oil stain on the thigh of his jeans. “...Yeah. Okay.”  

They throw on their shoes and Tim yells at Dick that they’re leaving, running out the door before Dick recovers from his mortification and moves on to the rage stage and starts yelling about privacy or bans Tim from his room entirely.  

It’s busy on the street and the sidewalk. At one point Tim pinches the sleeve of Jason’s jacket between his fingers so that they won’t get separated. Jason lets him.

When they get to the store Tim can’t persuade Jason to buy more than one new pair of jeans and a good jacket, but it’s something.

Tim wants to go to the arcade or go see a movie, but it doesn’t take long for Jason to start getting anxious, so as soon as they’ve paid for his new clothes (which is a big part of what made him so anxious) they go home.

Jason climbs up onto the top bunk and reads.

Tim barely sees him for the rest of the day, but when he does he gets little nods and smiles and it feels okay.

That night Tim wakes up when Jason comes down the ladder from his bed and quietly sneaks out of the room.

Tim follows.

He finds Jason out on the balcony.

Jason startles when Tim slides steps out next to him. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are you?” Tim asks.

Looking down at the cigarette between his fingers, Jason says, “It’s my last one.”

“Last one in your pack, or last one you’re going to smoke?”

Jason presses his lips in a tight line. “Not sure yet.”

He’s sitting on the concrete floor, and Tim sits too, closer to the railing. “Is it actually good? I’ve never tried it.”

“Depends on your definition of good, I guess.”

Tim reaches out, and Jason gives him a disbelieving look. “Just once,” Tim says because he wants to understand the appeal.

Jason hands over the cigarette and Tim inhales.

“Hey, Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate this.”

Jason laughs and takes it back. “Yeah, you usually do at first.”

“We need to find you something better to do with your stress, buddy.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Tim looks up at the clouds above them, dirty and grey from pollution. It’s cold out here, but he’ll stay until Jason goes inside, or until Jason asks him to leave. “We’ll think of something.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the Spanish conversation in English:
> 
>  
> 
> _“Rice and beans,” Jason answers. He and Dick are sitting at the table, each hunched over a bowl._
> 
>  
> 
> _“What? I only speak a little Spanish.” Tim is surprised he remembers even that much from Mr. Fairfield’s class._
> 
>  
> 
> _Jason shakes his head pityingly. “My god.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Dick laughs. “You barely know more than he does!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“In Spanish, please,” Jason tuts in disapproval._
> 
>  
> 
> _Dick releases a string of fast, fluent Spanish._
> 
>  
> 
> _When he’s finished Jason gives a slow blink and says, “Yes,"_
> 
>  
> 
> My own knowledge of Spanish is limited at best, so if any of that is wrong please let me know. 
> 
> And, of course, Thank You So Much for all of your comments because they really do drive me to keep writing!! /throws a gallon of confetti at you/


	11. 2.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s my birthday!” he yells. He points up at Jason on the top bunk. “I’m the same age as you for the next twenty-seven days!”
> 
> “It’s your birthday!” Dick yells from the other room. He shoves their door open with a huge smile. “Get dressed, we’re going for pancakes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm hello :) Apologies for the... slight wait. I sure hope this chapter is worth it lol. It was super hard to get back into the right mindset after not writing this fic for so long.  
> Also, check out this super adorable [fan art](http://generatorcat.tumblr.com/post/175550778402/khachalala-fan-art-for-another-intriguing)!!!!

“Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Jason insists, straightening his biology workbook so it aligns with the edge of the table. “Totally chill!”

Babs raises one red eyebrow. “Don’t bullshit me, little boy.”

“I’m not bullshitting.”

Staring him in the eyes, Barabara slowly reaches over and nudges the book. Jason refuses to look away from her, to look at how the book is now crooked.

His fingers itch.

It’s _crooked._

With an angry huff Jason breaks, righting the book so that it’s straight again. “That’s _mean._ ”

“You’re stressed.”

“Yes! Okay, yes, I’m freaking out,” Jason admits, his voice echoing through the library, and someone at a nearby table shushes him. He lowers his voice. “I have no idea what to get him. Happy now, you big meanie?” he asks, keeping his hand hovering over the workbook protectively.

Barbara sits back in her chair. “I’m not going to move it again, I just wanted you to stop bottling this up. Talk to me.”

Jason slides his workbook into his backpack with the others so he won’t have to be aware of it. They’re done with schoolwork for the day anyway.

“The only thing I know he wants is an Atari gaming system, but that’s over a hundred dollars.” There’s no way Jason can afford that, and no chance in hell he’d ask Dick to borrow that much. He’ll be using his own savings so whatever gift he buys for Tim’s birthday needs to be within budget of Jason’s five dollar per week allowance. (The allowance Dick practically has to force on Jason, because Jason doesn’t believe in free money and Dick already pays for everything he needs, so what the hell is he supposed to be buying anyway? Although, now Jason can _buy_ books, and have them be _his_. And sometimes he goes with Tim to the arcade.)

“You could just ask Tim what he wants,” she points out reasonably, and it does sound very reasonable when she says it, but…

“Isn’t it supposed to be a surprise?” Jason asks. He doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, but he’s pretty sure about that part. “And what’s the point in getting a present that he told me to get? He could just get it himself.”

“He could get himself an Atari too, but it would mean more coming from you.”

“I don’t know, it just feels… lazy. Or like I don’t care enough to think about what he wants.”

“You’re thinking about it _too much._ ”

“But he doesn’t know that!”

Another _shush_.

“Then tell him,” Babs says. “This is a chance to practice those communication skills we worked on. _Talk_ to Tim about how you’re _feeling_ about all of this.”

“It– it seems…” Jason drags his hand down his face. “Uhg.”

“It seems what,” Barabra coaxes.

“Lame,” he finally answers. “Embarrassing,” he adds.

“Nothing is lame if it’s important, and this is important. It won’t be embarrassing when you get comfortable with it, but that will only happen by _doing_ it. He can’t read your mind, just like you can’t read his. The only way to know what anyone is thinking is by talking to them.”  

Not for the first time, Jason wishes he could read minds. Telepathy would be so much easier than actually _saying words_. What’s the name of that guy in that show Tim likes? Spock. Spock is telepathic. Jason wishes he could be Spock.

He sighs. “Fine, I’ll talk to him.” Maybe. Like he said, it’s embarrassing. He’s a lot more comfortable with Tim now, after sharing a bedroom for five months, but it’s still not something he’s used to doing. Sharing, that is. Emotions and stuff. It’s not something Tim is very good at either. They spend most of their free time together, and yet Jason still doesn’t know a thing about Tim’s parents or how they died, and Tim doesn’t know anything about Jason’s mom, her picture still tucked safely underneath his pillow. Jason knows Tim’s favorite pizza toppings and the sound of his sneezes, but not what it is that has him waking in the night, trying to staunch his tears.

Barbara gives him a sceptical look but just says, “Good,” and leaves it at that. “Now, is there anything else to go over today?”

“Nope,” Jason replies, grabbing his backpack and making sure it’s zipped closed. “I think I’m ready to finish out biology, so I’ll take the final test at home soon, probably after Tim’s party. And then I was thinking I’d try economics next.”

In the four and a half months that Jason has been homeschooling, he’s completed almost ten courses. A majority of them Jason was able to briefly study for and then test out of. Dick thought it best to start Jason on sixth grade curriculum, just to be sure he had a proper foundation, and Jason knew enough to not have to spend too much time on them. The classes he actually spends time on, he likes to do one at a time and can knock them out in just a few weeks when he puts all of his focus on that one class. (And he does put all of his focus on his classes; he doesn’t have much else he wants to think about.) However, even with how quickly he’s been finishing the courses, and the fact that public school has been out for summer break, Jason still hasn’t caught up to Tim yet, academically. But he has enough credits now to be a seventh grader, and he doesn’t think it’ll be too long until he’s passing up Tim, who’s going into the eighth grade in a month. By the end of the first semester, at least.

“Sounds fun,” Barbara says, standing from the creaky, wooden chair. “So I’ll see you at Bruce’s place tomorrow night?”

Jason nods. He’s not looking forward to it. It’s good that it’s Tim’s birthday and they’re having a party, but the manor makes him uncomfortable. They’ve gone over there for dinner twice in the past few months, and each time was awkward, not only because of the obvious tension between Dick and Bruce but because of the place itself, the extravagance that Jason doesn’t think he could ever get used to.

But this is for Tim, so he’ll suck it up. “Yeah, see you there.”

Jason pushes through the library doors and is hit with a wall of heat that makes him want to just turn around and stay in there with the books all day. But he has a mission to complete today, so he forces himself out into the oppressive Gotham summer and sits on the front steps, waiting. A few minutes later Dick pulls up to the curb and honks, yanking Jason’s attention from the book in his lap. Putting the book safely in his backpack, Jason hops down the steps and gratefully climbs into the air conditioned car.

“So?” Dick asks. “What did you decide?”

With a sigh Jason leans back against the headrest. “I don’t know. Babs said I should just ask Tim what he wants.”

“You want to do that? We can drop by the apartment and then go shopping.”

Jason chews on his bottom lip. It’s just a present, not some huge, deep thing. But it feels big. It feels too personal, and Jason isn’t used to getting too personal with people, even Dick and Tim, even after so long. And despite what Barbara said, Jason feels like he should pick something out himself. Like he’ll be failing if he doesn’t.

“No, let’s just go. I’ll figure it out.”

Dick drives them to the mall. Half a year ago Jason would have been insulted by the idea of being accompanied somewhere. The first few times he went out with Tim and Dick he felt like he was being babysat. It didn’t take long for Jason become familiar enough with the neighborhood that he could go to the store and the library or just wander around by himself. He liked that freedom. For a while. Until the day he turned a corner and saw a man across the street, and Jason spun around and ran back the other way so fast he nearly ate sidewalk.

On the few times he’d thought about what it would be like to see his dad again, Jason imagined telling the bastard off. Maybe getting in a few shots of his own.

The last thing he imagined doing is running away, but that’s exactly what happened.

He still doesn’t know for sure if that man was really Willis Todd, but he looked enough like him to send Jason into a panic state almost as bad as that time at school. He managed to find his way to the apartment and it took the whole afternoon for Dick to calm him down. Jason didn’t want to explain what had upset him but he remembered Dick already knew what a piece of shit Willis was, and all he had to say was, “I thought I saw my dad,” for Dick to understand. When Tim came home from school he stayed right next to Jason for the rest of the evening.

The next time Jason went out, he asked Dick to go with him, and didn’t get any questions for it.

Jason goes out by himself sometimes, mainly to the library and back, but there are days when he feels too exposed and having Tim or Dick by his side feels like an invisible barrier of protection around him. And it makes sense that he’d feel safe with Dick, seeing as he’s a cop. It doesn’t make sense with Tim, seeing as he’s a kid– younger than Jason, even. But still, Tim is categorized in Jason’s brain as _safe_ . Maybe since he punched Freddy Lin. Maybe since they spent so many nights staying up with with each other when one of them couldn’t sleep, playing _Uno_ until three in the morning, trying to stifle their laughter and groans of frustration. Jason’s not sure when it happened, but he feels comfortable with Tim. Sometimes, he feels more comfortable with Tim than with only himself.

(And yet not comfortable enough to talk about heavy feelings, or even ask what he wants for his birthday. It’s just a different kind of comfort, he supposes.)

Dick chats about his shift the night before, about the drunk he’d come across that wasn’t wearing any pants and absolutely refused to confess why. “I’m still so curious. The guy was just stumbling down the street, suit jacket and tie, loafers in one hand a bottle of whiskey in the other, in his tighty-whities! There’s got to be a story there.”

Jason laughs. Maybe Rolanda got him, he thinks. She likes to find suit types, make them think they’re gonna get lucky, and rob them. Thinks it’s funny to take their clothes, which it is. The guy was lucky, actually, that he made it out with his shirt and shoes. Jason’s not gonna rat her out to Dick though.

Turning into a parking garage, Dick says, “Man I’m excited to have the next few nights off.”

“Excited for the party?”

After a beat Dick says, “Excited for Tim’s birthday,” which Jason notices is not the same thing. “I just hope…”

“Hope what?” Jason prods.

Dick presses his lips into a flat line. He parks the car. Softy, “It’s his first birthday without his parents.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know. They must have died shortly before Jason moved in with Dick and Tim. A few months, at the most.

Maybe that’s what keeps Tim up at night.

Last year was Jason’s first birthday without his mom. He’d told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but ended up missing her so bad he cried the whole day. His mom couldn’t always take care of him as much as she wanted to, and she sometimes she didn’t even know what day it was, but she always, every single year, made sure to celebrate his birthday. She would leave early before he woke up and buy him a donut because it was cheap, and she made it seem like it was this amazing thing, just for birthdays. Even when he grew old enough to understand that donuts were not exclusive to birthdays and there was no reason he couldn’t have one any day of the year, he never did. He kept that special because it was the only thing his mom could do for him. Last year he’d gone out in the morning and got himself a donut. He couldn’t bring himself to finish it.

Inside the mall they window shop for a while, Jason considering and then rejecting a line of possible presents, Dick occasionally making suggestions. It isn’t until they pass a music store that Jason stops. Tim likes music. He has a walkman and listens to it all the time. In fact, Jason remembers Tim eagerly talking about a certain group coming out with a new album recently, and he smiles.

~

Tim is way more chipper than Jason expected the next morning. Jason thought he’d be at least a little sad, or subdued, since he’s celebrating his first birthday since his parents’ death, but Tim practically jumps out of bed, startling Jason awake.

“It’s my birthday!” he yells. He points up at Jason on the top bunk. “I’m the same age as you for the next twenty-seven days!”

“It’s your birthday!” Dick yells from the other room. He shoves their door open with a huge smile. “Get dressed, we’re going for pancakes!”  

Tim pumps his fist into the air triumphantly.

They go to a diner down the street and Tim orders smiley face chocolate chip pancakes.

Jason watches him carefully as he eats, as they head back home, as he watches TV, but Tim really looks happy. Jason doesn’t understand how Tim could be so happy.

But maybe he isn’t, really, so happy.

“You should give me your present now,” Tim tells him after lunch.

“Aren’t you supposed to open them at the party tonight?”

“I don’t want to wait. And what’s the point in you lugging it all the way to Bruce’s?”

Jason figures there’s no point in arguing, and no reason why Tim’s shouldn't be able to receive his present now, so they go into their room and Jason pulls out the small gift he’d hidden in his sock drawer. “Happy birthday,” he says.

Grinning, Tim tears through the meticulously folded wrapping paper to reveal a cassette tape: U2’s _The Joshua Tree._

“Oh,” Tim says.

Jason fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “You like it?”

“Um. Yeah, yeah I do.” Tim gives a small, sheepish laugh. “I like it so much I already have a copy.”

Jason can feel his face fall, can feel his whole body deflate. “You do? That same one?” He sighs. “Shit. I’m sorry. I just, I remembered you talking about it, but I didn’t think about you getting it for yourself.”

He failed. He _failed._ He should’ve just asked Tim what he wanted like Barbara said. Now he’s wasted money and disappointed Tim.

Looking up, Tim notices his distress and pastes on a smile. “But hey, now I have a backup in case anything happens to it.”

“That’s stupid, Tim.”

“Not if you know how many tapes I’ve lost.”

Jason shakes his head. “I really wanted to get you a good present.” Tim has done so much for him over the past few months. He’s become Jason’s closest friend. His only friend, really, apart from Barbara and Dick. Jason wanted to show how much he appreciates him. Wanted to show it because he can’t just say it outright.

Tim says, “I like this, seriously. Thanks for remembering I talked about it, that’s– people don’t usually listen to me like that.”

“Oh.” Jason pulls at his earlobe. “Well. Good, then.”

Tim clears his throat. “Okay.”

He turns to leave, but Jason says, “Hey, are you…”

 _Are you okay?_ he wants to ask, because Tim shouldn’t be okay today– or at least, not as okay as he’s acting– but the words get caught on the back of his tongue, weighing it down. They’re too heavy. So instead, “Are you dressing up nice for dinner tonight?”

Snorting, Tim pulls a face.

~

When they arrive at the manor that evening Alfred opens the door and invites them inside with a warm, “Happy birthday, Master Timothy.”

“Thanks!” Tim’s smile is too wide, like it’s been all day.

“This way,” Alfred says, and leads them to one of the sitting rooms. Barbara is already there, talking with Bruce. Their conversation cuts off when the others walk in.

Babs walks over and greets Tim with a smile and a hug. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen her hug anyone before.

A few minutes later Alfred announces that dinner is ready, and they head to the dining room. Jason still feels very out of place here in the long, echoing halls and rooms with twenty foot ceilings. He sits next to Tim at the table, across from Dick next to Barbara with Bruce at the head, and still thinks how ridiculous it is to use this table that can easily sit two dozen, when it’s just them five. They’d be more comfortable at the regular sized table in the kitchen, but that’s not _proper_.

Conversation is awkward. Tim’s talking too long and too loud. Dick seems to take to heart the old saying, _if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all_ , because he barely speaks to Bruce. Bruce politely asks Jason how his schoolwork is going, and seems impressed when Jason tells him.

After dinner they file into a lounge room (a different one than before) where a cake is waiting with white, blue, and green icing and thirteen candles already lit. Tim grins and dutifully blows out the candles. Dick cheers.

While Alfred cuts and serves the cake everyone else pulls out the gifts they brought. Tim first opens the bag Barbara hands over and pulls out socks, underwear, a toothbrush, shampoo, four sticks of deodorant, shaving cream, and a razor.

She says, “I know you tend to forget you’re a human being with basic hygiene needs, so I got you some necessities.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Socks, Babs? Really?”

“You can’t tell me doesn’t have a hole in his sock right now. Doesn’t matter how rich he is, he’s a teenage boy.”

Tim shrugs in agreement.

“Fair enough,” Dick says. “But I think the razor is a little premature.”

Tim clutches the shaving kit to his chest. “Hey! I might need it soon.”

“Jason doesn’t even shave yet,” Dick argues.

“Well maybe he should!”

Babs leans forward, squinting at Jason’s face, and hums, considering. “Yeah, I think I’ll buy you the same thing for your birthday. It’s coming up soon, right?”

Rubbing a finger over the few fuzzy hairs on his upper lip (since when does he have hair there?), Jason nods. “Next month. But you don’t have to get me a present.”

“Of course I’m going to get you something,” she replies breezily.

Dick offers up his gift next, a new pair of sneakers that Tim deems “rad.”

There’s a large box on the floor by Bruce’s armchair and he lifts it into the coffee table. “Here you are, son. Happy birthday.”

Tim unwraps it and find an Atari gaming system. “All right!” he crows.

“I didn’t know which games you’d like, so I just bought all the popular ones,” Bruce tells him.

Inspecting the game titles, Tim assures him, “These are great!”

“And there’s a part two.” Bruce stands. “Come on, I want to talk to you about something.”

Tim trails after him out of the room.

Jason watches them go.

So does Dick.

“Have you seen Wally recently?” Barbara asks, drawing Dick’s attention.

“No. We talk on the phone occasionally, and we’ve made plans a few times, but. Something always comes up,” he sighs. “Between my job and the boys, and his job and– and the other stuff he does, we just haven’t had time.”

“You’re allowed to take a night off, you know. And I’m sure Wally can find someone to cover Central City for one day.”

Jason’s only half listening, picking at his cake and watching the doorway.

It feels like forever has passed when Bruce walks back into the room. He sits down and sips his coffee.

Tim hasn’t come back.

Setting his plate on a side table, Jason jumps up from the couch and goes out into the hall. He finds Tim a little ways down, slumped against the wall. His face is drawn into a deep frown, and his gaze is pointed at the opposite wall, but unfocused.

“Tim?” Jason approaches carefully when what he really wants to do is reach out and grab him tight. “Hey– Tim, hey, what did he do?”

“What?” His eyes drift over to Jason. “Nothing, it’s just. He asked me to–” He lets out a strangled noise, scowling at the floor.

“He asked you to what,” Jason demands, fists curling tight. The world freezes in that moment. The dust in the air around them stops and holds, and Jason is terrified for the second arm on the clock to finally click forward because that one second, one word from Tim’s mouth, will change everything. In that instant Jason realises exactly what he would do, how far he’s willing to go to protect Tim. He forces a sharp breath in, just enough to ask, “What did he do to you?”

Tim looks up and meets his eyes and Jason sees confusion, then understanding. Sees Tim realising exactly what Jason would do for him, and this, here, is another frozen moment. They’re suspended, like the dust, in the air between them, in this space that is only theirs. Right here and right now it’s only Tim and Jason and anything said here will be Tim’s and will be Jason’s and nobody else’s.

Yesterday Barbara said that the only way to know what someone is thinking is by talking to them, but right now Tim and Jason are understanding each other perfectly. So when Tim says, “N-no, Jason, he didn’t– he didn’t hurt me or anything,” Jason believes him.

The clock ticks over.

Jason exhales.

“He talked to me about something I already told him no to, before.” And he can probably see the question forming behind Jason’s lips because he says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jason nods. “Okay.”

“I… I want to go home now.” Tim’s voice is small, unlike it’s been all day. Closer to what Jason had been expecting, only now that he’s hearing it he wishes he wasn’t.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s go home.” Jason reaches out and tugs gently on Tim’s shirt. They walk back to the room where the adults still are and he plants Tim just outside the door. “Wait here.”

Jason walks straight to Dick, avoiding looking at Bruce because he doesn’t think he could control what he would do or say to the man in this moment. “We need to go.”

Dick glances around. “Where’s Tim?”

Gathering up the scattered gifts, Jason replies, “In the hall. It’s time to leave.”

Dick must pick up on the seriousness of his tone, and the fact that Jason never makes demands but he is now, because he immediately rises. He turns on Bruce. “What did you do?”

“I only spoke with him,” Bruce answers.

Dick barks, “What did you talk about,” and his voice is dangerous. The kind of dangerous that has Jason freezing in place, arms full of presents. The kind of dangerous that his legs think they need to be running away from. He doesn’t run. But he does walk away. He walks back out to Tim.

As he goes he hears Barbara warn, “Dick. Now’s not the time.”

Tim looks up, sees what Jason’s holding. “Oh right. Thanks.”

Dick storms out into the hall, heading for the front door, and the boys follow. When they get into the car Dick asks what happened but Tim won’t answer.

They’re all three tense over the long drive home, stiff and quiet. Dick squeezes the steering wheel until it creaks.

The second the apartment door clicks shut behind them Dick asks, “What happened?”

Tim’s already halfway to the bedroom. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Tim,” Dick snaps. “Stop!”

Tim does, though he keeps his back to them and stays quiet.

“I need you to tell what’s wrong so I can help.”

“You don’t want to help, you just want to be mad at Bruce.”

“Dammit, Tim, tell me!”

“He tried to give me the suit, alright?” Tim yells, whirling around, voice cracking. “He invited me back! To the house, to the– to everything. He asked me to come back.”

Jason’s breath catches in his throat. Tim… going back to live with Bruce. Leaving Jason and living with someone who– well, Jason doesn’t know the story but he knows there’s a reason Tim left in the first place.

“He _what?_ ” Dick bellows. “That _motherfucking_ – you’re not doing it, Tim! I’m not letting you go back!”

“Not _letting me?_ It’s my decision!”

“You’re staying right here and if Bruce tries to take you I’ll beat the goddamn shit out of him!” Every line of Dick’s body is screaming with rage. His booming voice echoes in the small apartment, echoes in Jason’s brain. There’s screaming and yelling bouncing around the inside if his skull and not all of it is Dick anymore. Some of it is his dad, his dad yelling at him, and his mom yelling at his dad, and his dad yelling back at his mom, and then–

Jason doesn’t realise he’s backing up until he hits the front door, head smacking off the wood loudly enough for Tim and Dick to both turn at the noise.

Dick is a good man. Dick is a _good man._ He _won’t_ hurt him. He hasn’t before and he won’t now, it’s fine, it’s okay, it’s–

Jason’s hand fumbles for the door handle and twists it open.

Dick takes one step forward. “Jay–”  

And then Jason’s running out of the apartment, feet slapping down the hall.

He hears Dick coming after him. “Jason, wait! Please!”

But he can’t wait, he can’t stop, he _can’t_ –

He has just enough of a head start that he can open the elevator door and barrel inside, slamming the door shut button so it closes on Dick’s broken expression.

His heavy breathing is so loud in this little space. His toes are tingling with adrenaline. The elevator drops a floor and Jason has no idea where he’s gonna go when it reaches the ground but he can’t be near Dick right now. He can’t be near the anger and _danger, warning, bad things are coming, get out now–_

He hates that he’s equating Dick Grayson to Willis Todd. They should never be held in the same category. But back in the apartment it felt like he was a little kid all over again, taking the shit from his dad all over again. He knows– he _knows_ Dick isn’t like that. Dick is _good._ Dick is _safe._ He’s had five months to learn that and after those five months he trusts Dick more than any other man he’s ever known. It was instinctual, running away. It was like a switch turned his brain off and his body went into self-defense mode; fight or flight. Jason always thought he was a fighter. Maybe that’s only because flight was never an option before. Before. When running away from danger meant leaving his mom behind to face it alone.

Oh fuck.

Tim. He left Tim behind. With Dick’s anger.

A black hole opens up in the middle of Jason’s chest, a second rush of panic.

He needs to go back. He needs to get back to Tim, even if that means going back to where Dick is.

He knows Tim is safe. He _knows it_.

But what he _knows_ doesn’t seem to matter at all anymore.

There’s a ding, and then the elevator doors are sliding open, and Jason is about to punch the button for their floor and ride back up, but he freezes when he see Tim and Dick standing in the lobby.

Taking a deep breath, Jason forces one foot forward and then the other. The terrified little boy inside him is screaming to go wherever Dick isn’t, but he shuts that part up because he needs to be wherever Tim is. So Jason walks out into the lobby and plants himself next to Tim. He looks Tim up and down, checking to make sure he’s okay. He wraps his arms around himself to keep from grabbing onto him because that would be weird.

Tim rests a hand on his back, and Jason breathes a little easier.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick says, moving away as far as he get can in the small room, holding out his hands like Jason is some wild animal. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m sorry I scared you. I promise won’t hurt you.”

Jason can’t make himself relax and say that’s it’s okay, or that he feels completely safe and comfortable right now, because it’s not, and he doesn’t. He can feel himself shaking and just hopes he won’t get sick. He’s so tired of feeling this way. He’s tired of being scared and anxious, and reacting the way he does. He didn’t used to be like this before Dick found him. He used to be able to hold himself together and these past few months have felt like he’s falling apart one piece at a time. Whenever he’s worried, his structural integrity weakens. Every time he panics, a huge tear is opened up and bits of him fall out. If that had happened in front of his dad he would have pulled Jason apart even more, so he never let it. If his mom knew how much he was hurting it would have hurt her, so he never let her see. He held himself together with duct tape and love and a mean face and spite and it wasn’t until after he moved in with Tim and Dick that he felt the noose loosen a notch. That he felt like he could relax a tiny bit, and he put away his mean face and peeled away some of the tape and that’s when he started to crack and chip off.

He’s tired. He’s tired of trying to keep himself together and he’s tired of it not working anyway. He thought he was doing so well. He hasn’t hit a bad point like this since he thought he saw his dad and that was three months ago. He’s been feeling so much better lately, but here it only took a few shouted words to have him panicking and losing himself again. It feels like there will never be a day where he won’t have to worry about this, and that thought is exhausting.

Slowly, Dick lowers his hands. “Can we go back upstairs and talk about all of this?”

Rubbing up and down Jason’s back, Tim says into his ear, “It’s okay if you need more time. I’m right here.”

Jason closes his eyes for a long moment and then shuffles forward to press the call button. The doors immediately slide open and they file inside. He find his voice to ask, “How did you get down here so fast?” as if that’s what’s important right now.

“Fire escape.”

“You… ran down the fire escape and beat the elevator from fifteen floors up?” Jason asks incredulously.

Tim, standing close enough that their shoulders brush, grins. “Impressive, right?”

The corner of Dick’s mouth quirks up, and it’s not a laugh or even a smile but it is a release of tension in the tight, angry lines around his mouth.

They spend the ride up in silence, but it’s not so strained.

Inside the apartment everyone falls into a seat with a collective, exhausted sigh. Dick goes to his recliner and Tim the couch. Jason sits on the floor, leaning against Tim’s legs. It’s more direct, prolonged contact than the two of them usually have, but he feels like it’s okay since Tim was touching him downstairs. And Jason just really needs it right now.

Dick speaks first. “I’m sorry, Jason. I feel terrible. I can’t– I can’t even promise that I’ll never get mad again, but I’m going to try as hard as I can to control how I act when I am mad. I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel unsafe. I don’t want to put you through that again.”

He looks so heartbroken. Something Jason’s dad never did.

“I know,” he replies, because he does and he did the whole time and maybe… maybe what he _knows_ does matter. Maybe he can listen to his brain again.

Some of the tension drops from Dick’s shoulders. “Okay, good. Thank you. Are you okay?”

Jason tilts his head to the side, resting his temple on Tim’s knee. “Yeah, I think so.” He still feels unsettled but he’s not so scared anymore. And he wants to curl up in his bed but not out of embarrassment or shame; Tim and Dick have helped him through some of his worst moments and he doesn’t feel the need to hide from them.

“Good. Let me know if that changes. Now, Tim–”

“I’m not gonna live with Bruce,” Tim interrupts, “but I want it to be _my_ decision.”

Clearly trying to keep his voice calm, Dick asks, “What happens if you change your mind? You can’t expect me to just give up without a fight and let you go back there.”

“You just have to trust that it won’t get to that point. I don’t...” Jason feels tentative fingers in his hair and very purposefully keeps still, letting Tim touch. He closes his eyes. “Bruce still needs someone, but it doesn’t have to be me. I think I’m needed more here. I _want_ to be here.”

There’s a long beat of silence and then he hears Dick stand up. “Okay. It’s late, boys. You should go to bed.”

Jason doesn’t want to go to bed because that would mean Tim pulling his hand away.

“I think,” Tim says softly, “we’ll just watch tv for a little while first.”

“That’s fine, just don’t stay up too late. Goodnight.”

Dick’s door shuts.

A second later he feels Tim lean over to pick up the remote, and then the tv clicks on.

Tim’s fingernails run lightly across his scalp.

Eventually, Jason falls asleep to the low sound of a sitcom audience laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will not be entirely about Jason's angst. There will be angst for everyone!! ;) Starting next chapter we'll move on to some of Tim's stuff. Also, Bruce won't always be such a side character, and he won't always be an antagonist. I don't actually hate Bruce lol.  
> I really hope you liked this chapter and if you did I formally invite you to leave a comment <3333 They are so encouraging, I went back and read all of them when I was trying to write this.


	12. 2.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim looks at the photograph carefully preserved under cracked but polished glass. He didn’t see Jason put it there but it had to have been him, and there’s only one person the woman in the picture could be; Jason’s mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW long chapter o_o Honestly this could probably use some more editing but I'm just so done looking at it so I hope it's good enough as is. I hope this chapter isn't too info-dumpy, or emotion-dumpy. It's a lot of talking/thinking about the past and people that have died. It's also a lot of relationship development so woop!

“It’s too hot for this. And I don’t even know what this  _ is _ ,” Tim complains, but he lets Jason lead him through Robinson Park anyway. 

“It’ll be fine once we find a good shady spot,” Jason says as they pass a few joggers, parents with strollers, and hobos on benches. Eventually he picks a picnic table next to a huge oak that blocks the sun and they sit. Jason glances around. “Poison Ivy is locked up right now, right?”

Tim looks around the park too. It’s been a while since he’s been here during the day. Back before everything, he spent a lot of his summers here– a whole three months without any nonsense getting in the way of what really mattered: climbing trees, riding his skateboard, practicing slingshot. Eating ice cream before it melted onto his fingers. And reading everything he could get his hands on about Batman and Robin _. _ Doing whatever he wanted because there was no one to tell him not to. He loved it. He thought there wasn’t anything better than a summertime with your folks away in Europe. 

Now, he’d give up all of his summers to have his parents back. 

The last time he came to Robinson Park was when he and Batman apprehended Poison Ivy, which is how he knows, “You probably should’ve asked that  _ before _ we took the bus all the way here, but yeah. She is.” 

“Cool.” Biting his lip, Jason sets a paper bag on the table in front of Tim. He’s been carrying it the whole way over here; he was gone from the apartment when Tim woke up and came back with this bag, demanding Tim put on shoes and go on a trip with him. “It’s a day late, but… Yesterday kinda sucked. So, here. Happy birthday.” 

Tim frowns. “You already got me a present.”

“This isn’t– just open it. It’s not a big thing.” 

Tim unfolds the top of the bag and looks inside. “A donut?” 

“It.” Jason hesitates. “It’s like a tradition. Sorry, it’s stupid, I just thought… I don’t know.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Tim says, reaching inside and taking out the pink frosted donut. It really is hot outside and Jason’s been carrying it around for a while, so the icing sticks to the thin wax paper sheet it’s folded in. Tim licks it off. “Ooh, there’s sprinkles! Nice.” 

He takes a bite and smiles. 

Jason smiles back at him, a little happy and a little sad. “My mom always got me a birthday donut.” 

“That sounds nice.” It sounds like a big deal. Something that was just between Jason and his mom, and now he’s sharing it with Tim. 

“It was. She liked to do nice things for me. She felt bad about being high or drunk so much, and us being poor, and my dad being a bastard, so she’d try to make it up to me. Until she got really sick. Then she couldn’t do anything.”

Tim sets the pastry down on top of the paper bag. It’s too sweet right now, sticking to the roof of his mouth. “How long was she sick?”

“Over a year. I found her food and stuff– kept her warm, and alive…” Jason sounds proud, but then his voice gets very small. “As long as I could.”

Tim doesn’t know what to do with this. Jason has only mentioned his mom three times before and never more than a few words. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Picking at the tabletop, he says, “I guess… I wanna be able to talk about it. I want to be able to talk about how sad and angry I am, or how scared I get, because I’ve never been able to before. I thought that was okay and I could just deal with it, but I obviously can’t because it’s not going away.” He glances up briefly. “And I want you to know you can talk about your parents, or whatever. With me. Dick keeps saying we need to talk about what’s upsetting us. I think he might be right.” 

Tim sighs. Dick probably is right. He’s right about a lot of things, even when Tim can’t see it until later. Bruce never talks about his problems, does he, and look where that has got him: cut off from the world, with a son that hates him. Sure, Batman does a lot of great things, and Bruce Wayne has a good heart, but he’s a very sad man. He has so much hurt inside that he keeps locked up tight. 

Tim has hurt inside. He doesn’t want to keep it forever. 

A bee gets too curious about Tim’s yellow shirt sleeve and he shoos it away. His fingers tremble, just slightly. He’s faced guns and giant, thorny vines, all with a steady hand, but this, talking about personal, emotional stuff, this is what has Tim nervous. 

He cracks a grin. 

“Oh, I see. This is a bribery donut, huh? You fill me up with sugar and I spill all of my secrets?” Jason’s eyebrows draw together is offense, in irritation, and Tim instantly knows that was the wrong thing to say. He’s gotten better at not saying asshole things because he’s become more aware of how words affect Jason, but right now he’s uncomfortable and it slipped out. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean that. This is a birthday donut and that’s really nice. I’m sorry.” 

Jason gives a little shrug. “You were just joking.” 

Tim licks his lip. It tastes like artificial strawberry, his favorite. “I think you’re right, that Dick might be right.”

“Yeah?” Jason finally meets his eyes. 

“It sounds… honestly, it sounds awkward as hell,” he says, and Jason laughs. “But it’s worth a shot.” 

It sounds awkward and hard and there are things that Tim can’t talk about– everything to do with being Robin– but it sounds better than stewing in all of his frustrations and sad memories. And he wants Jason to tell him everything he’s feeling. He wants to know every time Jason gets mad or sad, and listen to what he’s thinking, and help make it better. He wants Jason to do that for him, too. But mostly he wants to do that for Jason.

“Why bring me all the way out here?” Tim asks, picking up his donut again and waving it at the park around them. 

Jason leans forward, elbows on the table. There’s a drop of sweat slowly running down the side of his face. “Would you really wanna have this conversation with Dick in the next room?” 

He takes a huge bite. “Fair point.” 

They don’t talk about their parents. They don’t talk about anything, really, for the rest of the day. They walk around the park and then ride the bus home and Jason takes his final biology test, which Dick grades and marks as passed with a big, proud smile. 

~

It doesn’t come out all at once.

The next week Tim unpacks the photo book he hasn’t looked at in nine months. On the first page is the shot from that day at the circus of Tim as a little boy sitting on Dick’s knee, their parents standing just behind. Dick looks so happy in his bright red and green  _ Flying Graysons _ outfit, and Tim looks so happy staring up at him. After that is a handful of pictures of his mom and dad on their trips, and two family portraits with the three of them together. 

He takes out the first picture and the most recent family portrait from when Tim was ten and sets them gently on top of the dresser. He’ll go out later and pick up some frames to put them in and then display them out in the open, in his and Jason’s shared space. Maybe Jason will ask about them. Maybe Tim will find the courage to bring it up himself. 

He has a separate photo book, one filled with grainy shots of Batman and Robin. At the end of that one is a few pictures of Jason taking the wheels off the Batmobile. On the very last page is one of Tim’s favorites: Batman, standing next to his car with only one wheel left hanging on, throwing his head back and laughing. Right there in the dirty alley, on the anniversary of his parents’ death, Batman laughed. And Tim wouldn’t have missed that shot for the world. 

The next and last photo in the book is one of Batman turned to the side, looking right at the camera. 

Those, he can’t show Jason.

He remembers what happened after that, sitting there in the passenger seat of the batmobile, clutching his camera between sweaty hands as Batman drove him home. He wasn’t scared– he knew Mr. Wayne wouldn’t hurt him. He only hurt bad guys. And Tim wasn’t going to get in any trouble because his parents weren’t home anyway. He was just so  _ excited. _ After years of following Batman and Robin around, watching through his lens, he was actually talking to him!

After that he stopped photographing Batman. Why take pictures when you’re living it? 

Tim packs away his photo albums, sliding them under the bed. 

A few days later a small, framed photograph shows up on Jason’s side of the dresser, across from the two frames Tim set up. Tim glances at it as he grabs his clothes to take with him into the bathroom for after his shower. 

From the beginning he and Jason have had an unspoken agreement to not get undressed in their bedroom, neither one comfortable changing in front of a stranger. Tim wouldn’t have a problem with it now that they’re closer, but Jason would. They haven’t talked about it, but he just knows. Jason has very strict boundaries about personal space and privacy, and it’s only been recently that he’s started to let Tim touch him, and up until two weeks ago it was only ever welcome when Jason was very upset or out of necessity. However since that night Tim played with his hair, Jason has been not shifting away from him, and sitting closer on the couch, and even brushing against him in small ways.

It’s nice. Jason probably hasn’t had many people he felt comfortable touching, at least not since his mom died. Tim hasn’t either, but his mom did hug him sometimes, and Bruce used to ruffle his hair, and Dick is a pretty tactile person. But Jason doesn’t let Dick come within a foot of him. 

If Tim is the only one Jason can find comfort in, he’s happy to be that person. 

Tim looks at the photograph carefully preserved under cracked but polished glass. He didn’t see Jason put it there but it had to have been him, and there’s only one person the woman in the picture could be; Jason’s mom. 

It’s two days later that the photos are addressed. At least, one of them is. The easiest one. 

Jason is making soup, chopping vegetables while Tim helps (watches) when he asks, “So you and Dick have known each other for a long time, huh?” 

“I guess,” Tim mumbles. 

Jason dumps a pile of carrot pieces in the pot. “You look really young in that picture. You must have known him most of your life.”

“Oh. I mean, I met him then, but we didn’t actually know each other. I didn’t see him again until I was eleven.” Didn’t see him as Dick, that is. Tim saw him plenty as Robin, though Dick didn’t know that at the time. 

Jason pauses. “Why did–” 

He cuts himself off. When He doesn’t follow up with anything Tim pokes him in the side, making him flinch.

“Hey!” Jason protests. “I’m wielding a knife!” 

“What were you going to say? ‘Why did’ what?” 

“Nothing, I don’t need to know.” 

“What is it,” Tim insists. “We’re supposed to talk to each other now, right?”

Carefully, Jason says, “Your parents died after you turned twelve.” He glances up for confirmation and Tim gives a sharp nod. “So, assuming you know Dick through Bruce Wayne, why did you meet Dick when you were eleven? That’s before Bruce took you in.”

Tim is surprised and impressed that Jason caught that. But he shouldn’t be, really, because Jason is smart and observant. “Bruce was friends with my parents,” he explains, which isn’t a complete lie. They did know each other, were casual acquaintances in the same circles.

“Were they like super rich or something?” Jason asks wryly. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Tim admits. “Not as rich as Bruce, but they owned a company.” 

“That makes so much sense.”

“What? Why?”

Jason shakes his head. “There’s two types of people in the world, Timmy. Those who know how to get the last of the toothpaste out of the tube, and those who don’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tim asks with a bewildered laugh. 

“The fact that you don’t even think about how you wasted that bit of toothpaste tells me you grew up with money. I mean, you don’t even know what leftovers soup is!” 

“I do now! And I still say that’s dangerous, you can’t just throw everything that’s about to go bad in a pot and  _ not _ get sick from it some day.” 

“You can if you have an iron stomach forged from leftovers soup. And you don’t put in anything that’s actually  _ bad _ ,” Jason argues. “Don’t worry, I’ll toughen you up.” 

Jason winks and Tim laughs, a ridiculous sounding thing that comes with a weird tightening sensation in his gut. Maybe it’s preparing itself for the soup. 

They eat dinner (it’s delicious, somehow, as always) with Dick before he leaves for his shift. They watch tv. Jason does some schoolwork. They get dressed for bed, taking turns in the bathroom. When Tim walks into the bedroom Jason is settling down in the top bunk. Tim pauses, looking at the pictures. 

He asks, “What’s her name?”

After a long moment of quiet Tim turns to see Jason peeking over the guardrail. Softly, he answers, “Catherine.” 

Tim turns off the light and slides under the covers. “Goodnight, Jason.” 

“Goodnight, Tim.”

“Goodnight, Catherine.”

There’s a small huff of a laugh and then, “Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Drake.”

“Jack and Janet,” Tim supplies. 

“Goodnight, Jack and Janet.”

The bed creaks overhead as Jason rolls over. “Why don’t you have a J name too?”

“I think I almost did,” Tim whispers even though Dick isn’t home and there’s no one to disturb. “My middle name is Jackson.” 

“We could have been a set,” Jason mumbles. 

Tim doesn’t know if Jason means that in the way Jack and Janet were a set, or like they could be in the same family with all J names. Like brothers. 

Tim still doesn’t think of Jason as his brother. It’s not because they aren’t close enough, it’s just… Well, Tim’s never had a real brother before, but he imagines it’s like what he has with Dick. He feels like Dick is his brother. And that’s not what he feels for Jason. 

Tim’s never really had a best friend before either, so he figures that’s what Jason is. 

~

The photos have been out in the open for nearly two weeks when one day Tim wakes up, sees all of the people in their frames, and starts to cry. 

They’re all dead. Tim’s parents, Dick’s parents, Jason’s mom. They’re all staring back at him from across the room and Tim can feel it like burning on his skin. He looks away, shoves his face into the pillow, but they’re still there in the black of his eyelids. He sees his parents, ragged and dirty, gasping for air as the poison overtakes them. He sees the Graysons falling, falling, reaching up toward their son while Dick stares down at them in horror, his fingers grasping at empty air. He sees Jason carefully tending to his mother, wrapping her in any ratty blanket he can find, offering her his portion of food, until one day she doesn’t wake up. 

And it doesn’t matter that he didn’t actually see any of this, that he wasn’t there when his parents drank that water, that he’d turned away when the line snapped, that he didn’t witness Catherine Todd’s death. His mind conjures up image after image anyway. And then it’s not just them but every person he ever saw hurting or dying in those few months he was Robin. Every person he didn’t get to in time. Every person injured or traumatised by the Joker or mob bosses or their own families. They cycle through his brain like a Rolodex of misery, pleading for help, and Tim wasn’t good enough or fast enough to give it to them. 

He tells himself to push it all away like he always does. He pulls the pillow closer and closer until he can hardly breathe because if he focuses on that, on the straining in his lungs, he won’t think so much about  _ them _ . 

The bed frame rocks, and then a hand is resting on his shoulder. 

“Tim.” 

“I’m fine,” he gasps, voice cracked and muffled and not very believable at all. He allows Jason to tug him up into a sitting position, the pillow falling to his lap. He stares down at his hands. It’s not fully light outside, and early morning grey slithers into their bedroom through the one window, casting his skin a sickly, pale color. A deathly color. 

Jason fits himself next to him and Tim realises it’s the first time Jason’s done that, sat on Tim’s bed– or even touched it. 

“I think you’re not fine,” Jason says, and it’s quiet and gentle but it cuts into Tim like a knife. He hasn’t heard that. It’s only been  _ it’s okay _ and  _ it’ll be okay  _ and  _ everything's fine  _ and some of that was from Dick, trying to comfort him, but most of it was from himself, desperate to believe it. But Jason’s gone and just said the truth out loud and, in that one second, destroyed the veil of denial Tim has been shielding himself with. 

Tim’s not fine. None of this is fine. Bruce and Dick and Jason and everyone is hurting and Tim feels all of it. 

He turns, pushes his face against Jason’s chest, and cries. 

He doesn’t try to stop it or muffle it this time, for the first time, and it’s loud and it’s ugly and he grabs on to whatever part of Jason is nearby, one hand fisting his shirt and the other clutching his thigh. Jason wraps his arms around him and holds tight, cupping the back of his head while Tim soaks his shirt with tears. Tim feels surrounded. Safe. Like he can let the block hole in his chest open up and it won’t suck him in, because Jason is there to hold him in place. 

After a while he’s not really crying anymore, just feels swollen and thick and heavy. He’s not holding himself up at all, Jason bearing his weight. 

Jason hasn’t said a word and Tim’s grateful. 

He doesn’t know what to do now. He’s not ready to sit up, or get dressed, or eat breakfast, or be a person yet. He wants to lie back down but he can’t make himself pull away from the warmth wrapped around him. He can’t even look at Jason. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, so he does what he wants to do. 

Keeping his grip tight, he tilts back, dragging Jason down with him to lie on the bed. There’s some hesitation, some awkward maneuvering, but then they’re on their sides comfortably tangled up around each other, Tim’s face still hidden against Jason’s chest. 

Tim closes his eyes. Breathes. 

Wakes up to Jason carefully sliding out from beneath him. He blinks, and Jason catches it, quickly whispering, “Sorry, go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.” 

He slips off the bed and Tim hears his footsteps down the hall, then the bathroom door clicking shut. He rolls over, facing the room. 

A minute later Jason’s back, pausing when he sees Tim looking at him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “had to pee so bad.” 

Tim hums, too worn out for words. 

Jason is still standing in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know what’s expected of him. Tim doesn’t know either. All he knows is that this is all really weird and he feels like he’s been cut open and drained, but maybe it’s not a terrible kind of weird and maybe the parts that were drained out were the bad ones. 

The sky outside isn’t grey anymore. 

“Thanks,” Tim manages, but that’s really not enough. 

Jason nods. “Wanna talk about it?”

He looks so uncomfortable, but he’s here, and he’s willing to listen, and he wants to help. 

“Yeah.” Tim glances at the door. Dick is out there, somewhere in the apartment. “No.” 

Like he’s read Tim’s mind Jason asks, “Wanna go to the park?” 

“Too many people,” he answers, shaking his head. But he has an idea. “You okay with heights?” 

Jason looks skeptical, but says, “Sure.” 

~

Tim helps steady Jason as he pulls himself up and over the top of the fire escape onto the roof of their apartment building. Jason turns, taking in the view. It’s not much higher up than their balcony, since they live in the top floor, but up here they can see further, uninterrupted by the neighboring buildings. It’s an open space, but there’s no one around to hear them. 

“Nice,” Jason says. The wind ruffles his hair and his shirt, which Tim realises is actually his. He doesn’t think Jason would have gone through his drawers and borrowed Tim’s clothes, so it probably got mixed up in the laundry. He doesn’t mind. 

Moving away from the edge, they sit on the hard concrete. Tim would sit with his legs dangling off the side of the roof like he did when he was Robin but he doesn’t have a line right now in case he falls. It’s been a long time since he played with a drop like that, and he doesn’t know if Jason ever has. 

From his pocket Jason pulls out a pack of poptarts that he tosses to Tim, and a bag of grapes for himself. Tim thinks he would have a mug of tea too, if he could carry it up here comfortably. 

“So,” Jason says, leading. 

Tim fiddles with the plastic wrapper in his hands. While he appreciates the gesture, he doesn’t think he can eat right now. There’s so much he wants to say but too much of it is tied into Batman. He tries to sort out everything in his mind into two categories: normal person shit, and Robin shit, figuring what he can tell Jason and what he can’t. It feels pointless to try though. Will it really help to offer up some abbreviated version? Some half-truth?

He sighs. “I want to tell you but I can’t.”

“Is it because you were Robin?” 

He looks up at Jason, jaw dropping. “What?” 

Jason pops a grape in his mouth. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.” 

When Tim just stares at him he explains, “Bruce Wayne is Batman, right? Super rich guy who can afford all of Batman’s tech and stuff. Dick took me to stay with him those first few days, so he must be a good guy, but he won’t let me or you live with him, so he must do something Dick doesn’t like. Like taking kids with him to fight crime. I mean, there’s other stuff it could be, but Dick is crazy pissed at Bruce for letting you get hurt, like it was his fault.”

Tim opens his mouth to object– though he’s not sure what that objection would be– but Jason continues, ticking off points with his fingers. 

“You broke your arm at the end of December, same time people stopped seeing Robin around. You know how to fight, break into buildings, and hack computers. You and Dick were able to jump down the fire escape and beat the elevator to the lobby without even breaking a sweat. Dick was the first Robin, right? He does all that flipping and jumping stuff. On your birthday you said Bruce tried to give you back ‘the suit’, which I’m guessing is the Robin outfit.” 

He casually eats more grapes, as if he hasn’t just unravelled one of the biggest secrets in the world. It kind of reminds Tim of when he first explained to Bruce how he figured it out. Although Tim recalls being more apprehensive about it, standing there in Bruce Wayne’s foyer, explaining how he was there to help. How he knew Batman didn’t have a partner anymore and how  _ Batman needs a Robin _ , and, well, Tim already knew who he was and could be super stealthy (Batman hadn’t noticed him following around all those years after all– until the night before). So Tim should just be Robin. Who else would watch Batman’s back? 

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” says Jason. 

He’s right. Tim forgets how smart his is, even after watching Jason fly through his schoolwork, after seeing how quickly he picked up the computer skills Tim taught him, after knowing how hard it must have been for Jason to take care of his mother and himself for so long. There’s still this small part of his brain that sells Jason short because of where he’s from and how he grew up. Tim’s been working hard not to think that way because it’s awful, but it’s still there sometimes. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re really smart, and I guess Dick and I haven’t been that subtle, have we.”

Jason gives a crooked smile. “Not really, no.”

“I saw you,” Tim says because he can now. Because Jason knows and Tim can talk about anything he wants and this seems like the easiest place to start. “The night you tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. I was there.” 

He enjoys the looks of surprise on Jason’s face. “That’s wild. Wait, you were already Robin back then?” 

“Not yet. This was right before. Actually, it’s kind of why I became Robin.” Tim opens his poptarts. Nibbles on a corner. A bird resting a few feet away looks over in interest. “I used to follow Batman around, watch him fight bad guys and save people and stuff. That night he parked and then went around to the back of the theater and I sat on a fire escape in that alley.” 

Tim had known what day it was and what Bruce was doing, and he didn’t think he should watch, so he waited. “So I was there when you showed up and started taking off the wheels. You were pretty fast, by the way. Impressive.”

Jason grins. “Yeah, I know. Lots of practice.” 

Tim rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway. I heard him coming back and… I didn’t want you to get caught.” He’s not sure why. Especially back then, when in his mind everyone was either a criminal or not, and if they were they should be found and prosecuted. That’s just the way it should be. Bad people break the law and when you break the law you go to jail. But that night, watching this kid his own age with dirt and oil smudged on his face, his too-thin wrists working so hard to loosen the bolts on the tires… Tim couldn’t find it in himself to let that boy go to jail. Or juvie, or whatever. He just looked like a desperate kid who’d stumbled across something that could keep him fed for a long time. 

“So I kicked the railing of the of fire escape and you heard it and ran off. Batman came back and saw what you’d done and.” Tim smiles. “And he laughed.”

Jason’s eyes go wide. “What? He did?”

“Yeah, he thought it was hilarious. I hadn’t seen him happy like that in a really long time. And the thing is, that was the anniversary of the night his parents died, behind that theater. That’s why he was there. He goes every year to leave roses. He was so sad, but. You made him laugh. It was kind of amazing.”

“Oh,” Jason says, cheeks pink. “Well. That’s cool, I guess. Is that why he didn’t track me down?” 

“No, he probably would have but he heard the shutter of my camera go off. I didn’t usually take pictures so close in case he heard it, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to get the shot of him laughing. So he found me and drove me home because he knew who I was– like I said, my parents knew Bruce– and lectured me on being out late in that neighborhood. He didn’t know I was out late all the time, everywhere he went.” 

“How did that turn into you being Robin?”

“I stayed up all that night thinking about him. He’d become really angry and violent and reckless. Maybe not everyone noticed, but I did. It started after Dick left and just never got better. I’d been thinking for a while that he had been so much better off when Dick was with him. He seemed lonely and overworked when he was by himself. When I saw how you made him happier, it clicked that he needed a partner. He needed someone to pull him out of his darkness. He needed a Robin again. I went all the way to Blüdhaven to try and tell Dick but he was so angry at Bruce he didn’t care. So if Dick wasn’t going to be his partner again, I figured I could be.” 

Jason tosses his last grape to the bird. “And he just gave you the suit? Just like that?” 

“Pretty much. Like I said, he was lonely. He trained me for a few months, and then I was Robin. It was… it was amazing. And it was horrible.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s soft; he hasn’t showered yet, hasn’t put gel in it yet. “It was  _ so cool. _ I got to learn so much and save people and be a badass. But– but then there were people I couldn’t save. I saw people get hurt and die. I saw a lot that I can’t unsee. And then my parents went on a trip to Haiti. They were kidnapped. Batman went to save them, but they drank some poisoned water and. And they died.”

Tim hasn’t actually said that out loud, ever. He hasn’t had to explain it because the people in his life already knew, were there for it, like Bruce and Dick and Alfred and Barbara, or they read it in the newspaper, like all the kids and teachers at school. His parents were high-profile enough that the entirety of Gotham knew what had happened, thought they knew all about Tim’s life, without him ever saying a word about it. 

“I thought I was okay because I was Robin, you know? You can’t hurt Robin. Dick lost his parents but he was okay because he was Robin. Bruce was okay because he was Batman. I thought that solved everything. And I was fine, for a couple months. It wasn’t super hard to live without them because they were usually gone most of the time anyway. I was used to not having them around. I didn’t think about them a lot. I worked really hard and solved lots of cases and got really good at martial arts. Living with Bruce, I was always close to the cave, so I could go down and train or work whenever I wanted. Bruce said it was good that I was channeling everything into being productive.” 

But he wasn’t channeling. He was ignoring. Repressing. 

“And then there was this one night just before Christmas. Batman and I were out patrolling and came across a woman being robbed by a group of thugs. They’d taken all of her shopping bags and were starting to grab at her jewelry and fur coat. Batman and I swooped down to fight them off, but.” Tim frowns at the memory. “She didn’t even really look that much like my mom. The woman, I mean. She didn’t look like her but when I went to push her out of the way she looked at me and I had this thought like, I wonder if my parents will call me on Christmas day. They almost always did. At least called. And then I remembered that they weren’t just out of the country, they were  _ gone. _ They wouldn’t call me and they wouldn’t come back.

“It was just for a second, but I was distracted long enough for one of the thugs to get me. He broke my arm. Batman took care of them and made sure the lady was safe and got me back to the manor. Alfred reset my arm and put a cast on it. I felt really bad because I wouldn’t be able to go out for at least six weeks. 

“When he heard what happened Dick came back from Blüdhaven. He was so mad at Bruce. I told him it was my fault, that I was the one that got distracted. But he told me it was Bruce’s fault because he’s the adult and I was his responsibility and he should never have had me out there in the first place. He said Bruce shouldn’t be taking care of me and that I wasn’t safe with him. He offered to move back to Gotham and let me live with him. I didn’t really know if I agreed with him, but it was. Nice. To have someone care so much. Dick cared a lot for me, even though he didn’t even know me that well at the time. Or maybe he was just that angry at Bruce.” Tim shrugs. “I figured I wouldn’t be any help to Batman anyway, with my broken arm, so I left to live with Dick. I thought I could talk him into being okay about me being Robin while I healed, and then I would go back. But then… I got selfish. It was so nice living with Dick. I didn’t want to leave, even though I knew Bruce needed me. And then you came, and. Well.” 

“Do you still feel like that?” Jason asks. 

“Like what?”

“Like it’s up to you to help Bruce and save people.” 

“If I’m not doing everything I can to help, then what am I doing? I could be out there right now taking down Killer Croc, but instead I’m going to the arcade and watching  _ Star Trek _ on Tuesday nights.”

“You could be getting  _ eaten _ by Killer Croc,” Jason points out. “ _ You’re _ safe now, so I’m glad you’re not out fighting a man-eating, mutant crocodile.”

“I guess.” For some reason that makes Tim feel warm– warmer than the July day. Of course Jason’s happy Tim isn’t being eaten; it shouldn’t make Tim feel like he’s roasting under the sun, like he’s brittle and crumbly and sticky and sweet like the poptart in his hand.

“And…” Jason fidgets, pulling at his shirt. Tim’s shirt. “You’re helping me. You and Dick both. I know that’s not a big deal compared to fighting Killer Croc, but.”  

“That  _ is _ a big deal, Jason,” he insists. “It’s why I’m okay being here. It’s important. You’re important.”

“So are you.” 

Tim’s heart thumps in his chest. He’s feeling a lot of things, and it’s hard to sort through it all and see what it all is. He’s still sad, but also relieved, and he’s still hurting, but also grateful. And a little embarrassed. This is the most open he and Jason have been with each other. It’s the most open Tim’s been with anyone. He’s feeling  _ so much, _ like when he first woke up this morning, but it’s not crushing him anymore. But most of all he’s exhausted.

“Okay,” he says, “I think I’m done talking about all this today.”

“You wanna watch tv?”

“Yeah.” 

When they climb down to the apartment Tim sets everything aside, but it’s not like before when he ignored it all. He talked about it. He let himself feel it. And now he’s moving on, if only for today. 

~

Tim and Dick haven’t talked much the past few weeks. Or, more specifically, Dick hasn’t talked to Tim. Since the night of Tim’s birthday there’s been a layer of tension between them. He said he didn’t want to be Robin again, but Dick still keeps watching him like he’s expecting Tim to skip out any minute, which is totally stupid. Dick’s being stupid. He’s acting really cautious around Tim, maybe trying not to bother him and give him any reason to leave. 

They pass each other in the living room, Dick going off to bed and Tim headed to the kitchen for a snack (and maybe to sit with Jason while he does schoolwork) and Dick steps wide, too wide, just so they won’t touch. As if brushing arms will make Tim freak out. Sometimes he thinks Dick forgets who’s who, or that the same things that bother Jason don’t bother Tim. So Dick makes sure not to touch him and a flash of irritation has Tim sticking out his foot, tripping him. 

Of course Dick catches himself, and he turns, slapping Tim lightly on the arm in retaliation. He shrinks back in a way that makes Tim think it was purely reactionary. But now Dick looks like he’s going to apologise or something, and probably not talk to Tim at all for another week, and Tim’s had enough of Dick acting like this, so he punches him in the chest. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but it’s a solid hit.

Dick frowns. “Tim–” 

Tim pokes him in the cheek. 

“What are you–” 

And flicks his chin. 

“What the hell, stop that!” 

“You stop it,” Tim counters, feeling five years old but not caring. He jabs at Dick’s stomach.

Dick grabs him, and Tim slaps at his hands, and then finds himself in a headlock. He goes for Dick’s legs again. 

“Stop being a little shit, Tim!”

“Stop ignoring me!”

“I’m not!”

“You totally are,” Tim grinds out, yanking at the arm around his neck that’s not actually doing any damage at all, just pissing him off. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks and it’s  _ annoying. _ ”

Finally, with strength born from the aggravation and resentment of being ignored for so long, Tim sweeps Dick’s legs out from under him and they both go crashing to the floor. They wrestle around for a solid minute, Dick usually with the upper hand. That is, until Tim feels a splash of water on his face. He looks up to find Jason standing over them holding a cup of water, the rest of which he pours onto Dick, who squawks and jolts away. 

“Both of you stop being idiots!” 

There’s a long, quiet moment of them just staring up at him, water dripping down their faces, and then Dick starts to laugh. He sprawls out on the carpet and laughs loud, eyes closed, tears forming at the corners. “Th-that was so great, Jason,” he gasps, rolling to the side, curling up. 

Tim feels the edges of his lips jerk up, followed by his own bubble of laughter. But then he notices Jason’s hand trembling and realises what that must have looked like. All Jason saw was Dick and Tim fighting, and– for the most part– Tim losing. For someone who’s terrified even of a raised voice, Tim realises it’s lucky all Dick got was some water to the face, instead of a fist. They’re lucky Jason didn’t run away in fear again. “Hey,” he says softly, “it’s okay.” 

He means okay as in: this is nothing like what used to happen with Jason’s dad. Tim hasn’t heard the details about what that was, but he can guess. This with Dick just now, it wasn’t one-sided, it wasn’t angry (peeved, but not  _ angry _ ), it wasn’t  _ real. _ It was just… what brothers do.

Nodding shakily, Jason answers, “I know. I  _ know. _ ” He takes a breath. “But you’re both still stupid. Just fucking talk to each other.” 

And with that he turns and goes back to the kitchen. 

Tim lets him go. Knows he’s okay. He’ll probably clean the counters or something while he calms down, and then he’ll be fine. He’s not mad, and he’s not truly scared. If he was he wouldn’t be leaving Tim’s side, leaving Tim with Dick. 

All giggled out, Dick sits up, wiping his face dry with his shirt. “I think he’s my favorite now.”

“He’s definitely mine,” Tim shoots back. 

Dick sighs, but he’s still smiling a little. “Guess he’s right though. There’s things I need to say to you.”

“Then why didn’t you say them before? You’re the one always going on about how we need to talk, but then you just clammed up and acted like an asshole.” 

“I–” he drags a hand down his face. Quietly, “The last time we talked about this it sent Jason running out of the apartment. I wasn’t sure I could have this conversation without getting upset, and I couldn’t stand the thought of scaring him like that again.” 

“But we talked about it,” Tim says. “I told you I’m not going to be Robin again.”

Casting a sharp glance toward the kitchen, Dick shushes him. “Don’t say that, he could hear you.”

“Oh. Right, um. He knows. He figured it out.”

Dick stares at him for a minute, then, “Okay, we’re circling back to that later. As for you–” 

“Look,” he interrupts, “I know you’re worried, but like I said, I’m needed here. I’m not leaving Jason. I’m good for him, and. And he’s good for me. So you can stop stressing out about this, alright? I promise.” 

It’s similar to what he said weeks ago, but weeks ago he was upset– mad at Bruce for offering the suit, mad at Dick for scaring Jason. This time he’s calm, and he’s talked with Jason about everything, so there must be some sincerity in his tone and expression that wasn’t there back then, and this time Dick’s shoulders slump in relief. 

“That’s good,” he says, and he pulls Tim into a hug. “That’s really good.” 

When he lets go a while later he calls out, “Jason, get in here and tell me how you figured it out!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, I made a big deal about Dick needing Tim to know not to resort to violence to resolve his problems... but on the other hand, siblings be like that sometimes. If you have any you know what I'm talking about. 
> 
> I save all of my favorite comments in a doc and re-read them when I'm having trouble writing this fic. Please know your comments are so fucking appreciated and keep me motivated <3


	13. 2.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Dick is here. Dick is here and he always is here and he spends time with Jason and he helps in any way he can and he doesn’t hurt and he _cares_. He cares, and he’s _safe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, thank you for waiting so patiently for each update, even when they take months. This fic is extremely personal to me in a lot of ways, and sometimes it's hard to work on, but it's my most precious thing I've written and having your support goes a long way <3

Jason hears hushed voices in the kitchen as he approaches, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have gotten a cake?” Dick whispers. “There’s still time, I can run down to the bakery and grab one.”

“Yes I’m sure! Trust me on this.”

Turning the corner, he sees Tim trying to press candles into a donut.

“They won’t stay up,” he grumbles. Dick notices Jason watching and elbows him in the side. He looks up. “Oh! Um– wait just a sec,” he says, and props up the little blue one- and four-shaped candles in the hole. Grabbing a match, he lights them, then holds out the small plate.

“Happy birthday!”

Jason stares at the donut with chocolate frosting and multi-colored sprinkles, at Tim offering it to him so proudly, so excited, just like his mom used to, and feels his eyes start to burn with tears. Stepping forward, he nudges the plate out of the way and throws his arms around Tim’s shoulders, tucking his face into the curve of Tim’s neck so that Dick can’t see him.

“Oh,” Tim says softly. His arms come up to return the hold. “Are you– is this okay? Should I not have–”

“No, it’s great. Thanks.” Sniffling, he pulls back and wipes his face dry with his shirt.

Tim clears his throat. “Um. The candles are gonna melt everywhere, you should blow them out. Make a wish,” he says, lifting the plate up again.

Jason closes his eyes. He doesn’t know what to wish for. He can’t ask for more than he already has. Instead, he just says thank you to whoever is listening and blows out the candles. He sets them aside and takes a bite, humming happily.

“Present time!” Dick announces, pulling out a large bag. Inside is new clothes. “You’ve been growing so much, I figured you would need these.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

“My turn.” Tim hands him a copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ with a little bow taped to the front.

Dick frowns. “Don’t you already have that book, Jason?”

“Yeah,” he says, and then he _laughs_ because yes, he does already have a copy and Tim _knows_ that, and he did this on purpose because of the cassette Jason had bought for his birthday last month.

Tim laughs too, and Dick just looks between them in confusion.

~

“Okay, gentlemen,” Dick says seriously, making eye contact with both boys in the bathroom mirror. There’s just enough space for the three of them to be lined up at the counter, though Tim is a little squished in the middle, bumping into Jason every time he moves. Dick holds up his razor. “Are you ready?”

Tim gives him a flat look. “It’s shaving, Dick. Not defusing a bomb, which I actually know how to do. If I can do that, I’m sure I can handle this.”

“Oh yeah? Five bucks says you cut yourself at least once.”

“ _Ooh,_ five whole dollars?” Tim says with heavy sarcasm.

“Alright fine. If you lose, you have to shave your leg hair.” He glances down. Squints. “You do have leg hair, right?”

“If I win,” Tim says, pointing at Dick with a can of shaving cream, “ _you_ have to shave _your_ leg hair.”

“Fine,” he says easily. To Jason, “You want in on this?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna bet on my ability to do something I’ve never tried before. I’m not an idiot,” he says, grinning at Tim, who rolls his eyes.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“Mhm. You’ll see. First, we get our faces wet.” Dick leads them through the process step by step. Jason and Tim follow along with the razors and shaving cream Barbara had gifted them both.

Jason is pulling the blade slowly down his left cheek when he notices Tim watching him. “What?”

“You’re bigger than me.”

Jason frowns, confused, glancing at their razors. “They’re the same.”

“No, not that. You. You’re taller and stuff.”

“I’m a year older, I’m supposed to be bigger.”

“Yeah, it’s just. You weren’t, before. You’ve grown a lot in the past few months.”

That’s true, Jason thinks, observing himself in the mirror. He hadn’t really noticed, but now that he’s standing next to Tim and comparing, he sees he has stretched up and filled out considerably since he left the streets. Regular access to food will do that, he figures. His t-shirt is pulled tight– it’s a good thing Dick got him new clothes; he’ll need to give this shirt to Tim soon.

He watches Tim watch him, eyes trailing down to Jason’s shoulders, his arms, his chest, his stomach, his–

“Ouch!” Tim sucks in a sharp breath, flinching back. He leans in close to the glass to inspect the small cut on his neck. “Fuck!”

“Ha!” Dick grins, rinsing the remaining foam off his face. “Told you so.”

“I just… got distracted,” Tim mumbles, wiping away a small drop of blood. He looks at Jason, and then quickly away.

Drying his face with a hand towel, Dick’s eyes slide from Tim to Jason. He freezes. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Jason asks. He leans down get a better look at Tim’s neck. Tim stiffens. “It doesn’t look _that_ bad.”

Dick shakes his himself. “Hm? No, it’s– it’ll be fine… I hope,” he adds softly. Then, more brightly, “You know what this means? You get to shave your legs!”

Tim glares. His face is red all over.

Dick waves his hand dismissively. “Calm down. I’ve done it before, it’s not that bad.”

“If it’s not that bad then why is it the punishment?” Jason asks.

Dick smiles, turning to talk to him over Tim’s head. “Because he still has the fragile masculinity of a teenager. He’ll hate it.”

“Hey!” Tim protests.

“Am I wrong?” Dick asks, eyebrow raised.

Tim, stuck between having to admit to either a ‘fragile masculinity’ or wanting to shave his legs, glares harder and says nothing.

“When did you shave your legs?” Jason asks.

“Went undercover as a girl once. And then another time just because I wanted to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it feels kinda… nice.”

Jason looks down at his own legs, imagining them without hair. It sounds weird. Men don’t shave their legs. But then Dick just said he did, so. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird. It would feel nice, he supposes, to be all smooth. Smooth things feel good to touch. He might like to touch his own smooth legs. He wouldn’t like anyone else touching, though. He hates the thought of other people touching him (except for Tim, now, sometimes). The only time he thought he might have his leg touched is that night Dick found him, when he’d gotten desperate enough to stand on the corner like Stacey and Connie. Stacey and Connie keep their legs shaved. They get their legs touched.

Jason grimaces.

“Hey, careful,” Dick says, drawing Jason’s attention to how Tim is rinsing off in a hurry and splashing water all over the counter.

Tim snatches Dick’s towel and hastily rubs his cheeks dry, then tosses it and leaves the bathroom.

“Where are you going, mister? You lost a bet.”

“I need to– not be here. Bye!”

“You’re not gonna weasel your way out of this,” Dick calls after him.

“Later!” comes Tim’s strained reply from down the hall.

Picking up the discarded towel, Jason wipes the counter. “You think he’ll actually do it?”

Dick shakes his head. “He’ll put it off until he thinks I’ve forgotten about it. I might let it slide.”

“Hm.” Jason finishes up, feeling the newly smooth skin of his upper lip and chin, thinking about Tim’s legs if he actually does shave them. Tim would probably let him feel.

Jason grimaces again. He doesn’t know which thought is worse: being the one being touched, or being the one touching. Being Stacey and Connie, or being the john.

~

Tim goes back to school in early September. Jason misses him during the day. It’s strange. Jason’s gotten so used to having Tim around. He’s used to having Tim there to listen to everything he says. Even if they’re not doing something together (which they usually are), he’s almost always at least in the next room. But now there’s a whole stretch of the day, between seven and three, where he’s just not there. Instead it’s just Jason and Dick in the mornings, and then Dick goes to bed after lunch.

Dick’s been spending a lot of time with him when Tim is gone, and Jason hopes it’s not because he’s being really obviously sad about it.

He doesn’t mind when Dick plops down to watch tv with him. Or when he comes out on the balcony and asks about the book Jason is reading. Or when he invites Jason to tag along to the grocery store. Or when he helps with his schoolwork. He really doesn’t mind. It’s a little uncomfortable without Tim, but it’s getting better. Dick is trying so hard. He can see that.

He sees it when Dick comes into the kitchen one morning and waits for Jason to look up from the pot he’s washing before asking, “When do you feel safe?”

He pauses scrubbing. “What?”

“When are you comfortable? What makes you happy?”

“Um…” Sitting next to Tim on the couch, close enough to feel his warmth as they bicker over what show to watch. Reading a book in his bed with Tim in the bottom bunk listening to music, tapping his foot against the bedpost slightly out of time with the beat. Or, that one time Jason didn’t make it up the ladder and he read on Tim’s bed. He likes walking around the city with Tim skateboarding next to him.

He likes being at the library. He feels good around Barbara.

He liked last Friday when he and Tim and Dick went and saw a movie together. He likes when Dick grades his tests and smiles so wide, telling him what a great job he’s doing. He likes knowing Dick is nearby.

He’s happy and comfortable when the three of them sit down to eat dinner together. Watching them eat the food he made is nice.

He doesn’t know how to say all of this out loud, at least not to Dick. He could maybe say it to Tim.

“There’s not a wrong answer,” Dick says softly.

“I. I’m happy with Tim. And you, and Babs. You know.” He shrugs.

Dick smiles. “That’s good. I just… You’re only socializing with three people, and you spend so much of your time in the house reading or doing schoolwork. Is there anything else you want to be doing? You could take some piano lessons, or gymnastics classes.”

The thought of him actually sitting down at a nice piano or flipping around a room in a leotard makes him laugh a little. “You don’t need to worry about shit like that, Dick. I’m fine. You’ve already–”

“I know I’ve already,” he cuts in. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do more. I want to. I just want to make sure… Is this enough?”

 _Is is enough?_ As if it’s not more than he’s ever had before. Not that Tim and Barbara and Dick are worth more than his mom, but just being able to sleep at night and eat whenever he wants and feel _safe_ … that’s something his mom couldn’t give him. Although, it wasn’t all terrible. It’s important to him to remember that. To remember all the little things his mom did for him, and spending time with Señora Ovila, and finding busted machines people had thrown out and fixing them up to sell. The pride that came with taking something that had been broken and making it work again.

“What are you thinking about?” Dick asks. “You look like there might actually be something you want, for once.”

“Well, I like– um. Working on TVs or radios or whatever. Or cars.”

Dick’s lips quirk up. “When you were stealing parts off them?”

“Yeah. It’s not the stealing I liked, just working with cars. I mean, I never really got to fix a car, I was usually… you know. Doing the opposite.”  

“Okay…” Dick crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks out loud. “So how can we let you do that sort of thing again– legally? If my car needed work I’d let you give it a shot, but it’s running fine.”

Jason blinks at him, surprised. He’d let Jason try to fix his car?

“And we don’t have anything broken around here,” Dick continues, glancing around the apartment.

“Most of the stuff I worked on wasn’t stolen,” Jason ventures. “I found it in the trash. People throw out appliances and electronics all the time.” He never understood how people could be so lazy and wasteful. Even if they don’t know how to fix something themselves, there are repair shops that do it for less than a replacement would cost, in most cases.

“You want to go dumpster diving,” Dick says skeptically.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. I’m a cop and a vigilante. I’ve spent hours sifting through trash looking for evidence. But,” he says with a shrug, “if you really want to, go for it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just be careful what you touch and clean up whatever you bring home so we don’t get some nasty disease. And keep it all in your room, I don’t want to trip over a dismantled microwave on my way to the bathroom. You need any tools?”

“Just a few. Basic stuff.”

Dick grins. “I might be able to help you out there. Want to see something cool?”

Twenty minutes later Dick is unlocking the door of a closed-down pet supply store in Old Gotham. It squeals when he shoves it open. Inside, the shop is dark and dusty, clearly abandoned a long time ago. There aren’t any animals, but it still smells like there are.

“I bought this place when I moved back from Blüdhaven.”

“Kinda looks like you ran into the ground,” Jason says, following him down an isle half-filled with dog and cat toys.

“It was already like this when I got it. I never touched the storefront. All I was interested in is the basement.”

“Gotta say, that sounded super creepy, Dick.”

Laughing, Dick leads him through another heavily locked door at the back of the store and they come into a small office. There’s a desk and chair, metal filing cabinet, outdated calendar on the wall, and a worn rug in the center of the floor, the last of which Dick rolls to one side to reveal a hatch door. He yanks it up and all Jason can see is the start of a staircase going down into darkness.

“This just keeps getting worse,” he warns. “If I didn’t trust you like I do, I’d be running.”

Dick snorts. “I would hope so. Come on.”

When they reach the bottom of the steps Dick flips a switch, lighting the room.

Jason’s breath catches. “ _Woah._ ”

“This is where I keep all my Nightwing equipment,” Dick explains, voice echoing as he moves farther into the basement– which actually must be the combined basement spaces of several neighboring shops. Maybe even the whole building. It’s more of a bunker, really; with thick steel paneling the ceiling, walls, and floor, it looks like a place that could withstand a bombing. On the wall to the right of the stairs is the _Nightwing equipment_. There are two black and blue suits on display and shelves, floor to ceiling, filled with weapons. Jason doesn’t recognise all of them, but he sees a row of those sticks Nightwing likes to use, and a large stash of those ninja star things– the ones cut into the shape of his modified bat symbol.

But his attention is really caught by the machines stationed around the room. Dick pats the nearest one.

“This is my welding machine. Over here is the lathe. Hydraulic press, CNC machine, plasma cutter…” He points out each as he lists them. Some, Jason knows. Some, he doesn’t. But all of them, he itches to touch.

They make their way through to the huge work table taking up the entire back wall, on which sits a neat line of power tools. Hanging on the wall above the table are screwdrivers, hammers, socket wrenches, wire cutters, and wrenches in every shape and size. Off to one side there are stacked bins with labels like _tape, screws, nails, washers, wires,_ and so on, and so on.

To the other side is a cart with a water dispenser and coffee maker and packages of snacks.

“You could make… _anything_ here,” Jason says, awestruck.

“I can’t exactly drop by the corner store to pick up a grapple gun, and I won’t take any help from Bruce, so I’ve got to be able to make everything I need myself.”

“But…” Jason glances at the suits. “You’re not being Nightwing anymore. Are you?”

Dick hasn’t mentioned going out as Nightwing in the past few months. He just goes to work at the precinct and comes straight home.

Dick shrugs. “I haven’t suited up in a while, no. But I’m still Nightwing. And I plan on going back out eventually.”

Nodding, Jason looks around the room, trying to take it all in. “This is so awesome.”

“If you see something you want to borrow, go for it.”

“You'd really let me use this stuff?”

“Well… Maybe not all of it. At least not without supervision. You're smart, but I'm not leaving a fourteen year old boy alone with a drill press. But most of this, yeah.”

“I don’t know if I could– wait, you have a soldering iron!” Jason yells excitedly, rushing over to look at it.

Coming up next to him, Dick asks, “Have you used one before?”

“No. But I read about how it works.”

“Want me to show you?”

Jason glances up. Dick is smiling. He looks happy to be here, happy to be showing Jason all of this, happy to be spending time with him.

Jason smiles back. “Yeah!”

~

The next day Jason is working in his bedroom when he hears Tim coming home from school, the front door shutting and shoes being kicked off. Then Tim is standing in the doorway, backpack hanging from one hand, and he freezes.

“Jason.”

“Yeah?”

“Why is our floor covered in garbage?”

“It’s not garbage,” he argues, stripping the fried wires from a Hoover.

“Where’d it come from?”

“...A dumpster.”

Tim raises an eyebrow pointedly.

Jason sighs. “Okay, yeah, but it’s not trash if it can be fixed. And I’m fixing it.”

“Why?” Tim asks, finally stepping into the room. He drops his backpack in the corner and then himself on the bed. He lies starfished out, head rolled to the side so he can watch Jason.

“Because it’s fun.” At Tim’s doubtful look he adds, “Isn’t it fun for you to write computer programs? Well this is the same thing for me. It’s… It feels good to take something apart and see exactly how it works, find what’s broken, and make it right. When something breaks you shouldn’t just throw it away and get a new one, not if it can be fixed.”

“Most people do. That what I would do. I mean, if you can afford a new one, why not?”

Jason thinks about that for a minute. “Come here.”

“Hm? Tim hums sleepily.

With the pliers in his hand Jason motions toward the spot of carpet next to him. Tim heaves a put-upon sigh but slides off the mattress and sits by his side. A large hole above the knee of his jeans exposes pale, hairless thigh. Dick had, in fact, forced him to make good on the wages of the bet. Tim had decided to act like he doesn’t care at all. Jason hasn’t felt the smooth skin.

“You’re gonna help me fix this vacuum.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to know that it feels better than replacing it.”

~

Arms crossed, Dick looks at the vacuum, computer, mini tv, blender, and two stereos littering Jason and Tim’s room. “Wow, you really ran with that, huh. What are we supposed to do with all of them?”

“Pawn them off?” Jason suggests.

Dick considers that and decides, “They’re your projects, so if you want to do that and keep the money, that’s fine. It’s _yours_ though, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you need to pay me back for anything.”

“Tim helped some,” he mumbles.

“Then you can split it if you want.” Dick shakes his head. “Seriously, Jay, I didn’t expect all this, but you’ve done a great job. It’s impressive. I’m really proud of you.”

Jason can’t help the surprised, strained whining noise he makes then. Can’t help the tears suddenly prickling behind his eyes.

Dick frowns, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

_I’m really proud of you._

Pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes, Jason gasps, “I– I don’t…”

He can’t finish the sentence, doesn’t even know what the rest of the sentence would be. _I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t deserve that. I don’t want to hear that because it hurts because I’ve never heard it before, but please, please say it again, I need to hear it again._

God, he feels pathetic.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Dick says softly but firmly. “Tell me what you need.”

He needs Tim, but Tim isn’t here.

And Jason just. Can’t. Not with Dick. Dick, who’s looking at him with such care and that makes him feel too much. Dick, who’s saying he’s _proud_ , like Jason is _good_ , and it’s like a hand reaching down his throat to grab his heart.

Tim isn’t here.

Jason needs to not be here.

He stumbles out of the room.

“Jay?” Dick calls after him, but he doesn’t yell and he doesn’t try to stop him.

Jason pauses in the hallway, forehead pressed to the plaster.

He doesn’t know what to do. How to feel.

Tim isn’t here.

But Dick is here. Dick is here and he always is here and he spends time with Jason and he helps in any way he can and he doesn’t hurt and he _cares._ He cares, and he’s _safe._

Jason forces his feet back into his bedroom, where Dick is waiting patiently, patient even when Jason knows it goes against every cell in his body.

“What was it that upset you?” Dick asks.

Jason swallows. Can’t meet his eyes. “You said you’re– you’re proud of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No! No, it’s…” Pushing the words out feels like trying to shove a grape through a straw. Too big, and probably not going to come out right in the end. “No one’s ever been proud of me before.”

Dick’s face gets very angry, but Jason isn’t afraid. He knows he’s not what Dick is mad at. “Jason. I’ve been proud of you since the first night we met and you accepted my help. I’m proud of you for recognising you deserve more. I’m proud of you for coming out the other side of each and every panic attack, and not letting your anxiety tear you apart. I’m proud every time I see you and Tim off in your own little world. I’m proud of every test I grade. You have worked so hard, and you should be proud of yourself.”

He feels it, that wall he’d built up between them finally crumbling into dust.

Jason steps closer and buries his face into Dick’s sweatshirt. After a moment there’s a hesitant hand resting on his back, but it grows more sure when he doesn’t pull away. Dick doesn’t comment, just lets Jason cry. It reminds him of that morning he held Tim as he cried. He hadn’t minded, even when his butt got sore from holding the same position for too long.

They stand there for a while, and he thinks Dick doesn’t mind either.

Is he supposed to mind? All of this is new to him. Touching, hugging anyone but his mom… He doesn’t know the rules. All he knows is that if he and Tim stood close together in front of people outside, they’d get weird looks. All he knows is that the men in the part of town he grew up in never hugged or cried on each other or did any of the things that Tim and Dick and Jason do. All he knows is that, without ever even hearing the words, he’s been told it’s wrong.

All he knows is that the only time he saw men touch other men is when johns came around for the boys on the corner. (Like Jason, just that one night.)

All he knows is that it doesn’t feel wrong at all. Having Dick wrap around him right now, warm and strong and safe, feels like exactly what he’s been missing his whole life. Cuddling up next to Tim on the couch and having him pet his hair is his favorite part of the day.

Eventually Jason pulls away, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Dick sets his hands carefully on Jason’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He sniffles. Nods. “I’m fine.” And he is fine. He is, because if he wasn’t he’d be able to say it, and that makes everything okay. “Thank you.”

~

Jason’s portioning scrambled eggs onto two plates, leaving some in the skillet for when Dick gets home from his shift, when he hears the TV turn on in the living room and [pop music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0FKzPfsxA4) filter through to the kitchen. He also hears Tim singing along to it.

“ _Every little step I take…_ ”

He leans over to peek through the open doorway. Tim is… dancing. Sort of.

Abandoning breakfast for now, Jason quietly wanders over and watches Tim throw his limbs around out of sync with the music in a poor imitation of what the guy in the music video is doing.

“You’re shit at that.”

“Better than you!” Tim yells without looking, focus fixed on the screen. He tries to do a turn and trips over his feet.

“Oh my god, Tim, it’s like _this_ ,” he says, coming to stand next to him and watching for a moment before demonstrating the dance. There are quick, up-close shots of women in tight, black dresses, and Jason glances away from those.

“That’s what I did!”

“It really isn’t.”

“How are you so good at everything,” Tim demands, eyes following the movements of Jason’s body. “Have you even seen this music video before?”

“Nope. Here, watch my feet.” Jason shows him the footwork. “And then just bounce with it.”

Tim tries, but it’s uncoordinated.

Shaking his head Jason says, “Your rhythm is way off.”

“I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Okay, stop worrying about what he’s doing for a sec.” He turns Tim around so he can’t see the TV and moves up behind him. Tim makes a startled noise but doesn’t protest when Jason sets his hands on his waist. He steps to one side and then the other, leading Tim to the beat. “You feel that?” Jason asks. Tim’s hair tickles his nose as he nods. “Let the music carry you.”

The song changes, something with a slower tempo, and Jason adjusts their rhythm to match. Tim brings up one hand to his side, resting on top of Jason’s on his hip. It feels clammy. It trembles slightly.

Leaning forward for a glimpse of the side of Tim’s face, he asks, “Are you okay?”

Tim flinches away a little.

Jason starts to withdraw, but Tim’s grip on his hand gets tighter, keeping him in place. “I’m, uh.” He clears his throat. “I’m not really sure.”

“What–”

Jason is interrupted by the front door opening.

Tim drops his hand and steps away.

Dick comes inside, and immediately Jason can see that something is wrong. Hair a mess, dark smudges on his face, tight lines around his eyes and mouth. He looks exhausted. He looks angry. When he makes eye contact with Jason and Tim he doesn’t even try to smile.

“Boys,” he says heavily, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s wrong,” Tim asks, instantly on alert. “What happened?”

“Batman lost in a fight against Bane.”

Tim grabs Jason’s wrist again, still shaking, but it’s different this time. Tim’s nails dig into his forearm. He doesn’t mention it.

“But he’s– he’s okay, right?”

Slowly, Dick shakes his head. “Bruce is hurt,” he says, and he sounds hurt too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	14. 2.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels a wave of worry and panic rise up and he mentally beats it into submission. This is not the time. This is the time to be calm and in control. This is the time to assist Alfred, fix Bruce, comfort and protect his boys. Everyone needs him right now, and they need him to be a cop, they need him to be Nightwing, they need him to be a strong big brother and a good son, they need him to be fucking useful, not a mess overwhelmed by the situation. He’ll push everything he’s feeling aside until a time when it’s safe to feel it.
> 
> Though he can’t imagine when that will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay we're about at the halfway point for this fic 
> 
> it’s emo hours bitches
> 
> (don't worry, no one dies)

Dick lets himself into the manor with the key he never got rid of– even after he moved out, even after he swore he’d never come back– and the boys follow him inside. Tim has yet to let go of Jason’s hand.

“I’m going to run downstairs and check on things. You need to wait here,” Dick says. When Tim opens his mouth to argue he adds, “They’re probably still in surgery. Don’t want to distract Alfred while he’s working, do you?”

Tim closes his mouth. Shakes his head.

Dick rests a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. Promise.”

He doesn’t look completely mollified, but that’s the best Dick can offer right now. He leaves them with each other and heads for the grandfather clock in Bruce’s study, which slides shut behind him as he descends the staircase into the cave, preparing himself for the worst. When he last spoke to Alfred they didn’t know the full extent of Bruce’s injuries.

He feels a wave of worry and panic rise up and he mentally beats it into submission. This is not the time. This is the time to be calm and in control. This is the time to assist Alfred, fix Bruce, comfort and protect his boys. Everyone needs him right now, and they need him to be a cop, they need him to be Nightwing, they need him to be a strong big brother and a good son, they need him to be fucking useful, not a mess overwhelmed by the situation. He’ll push everything he’s feeling aside until a time when it’s safe to feel it.

Though he can’t imagine when that will be.

He pauses just before stepping onto the concrete floor of the cave and takes in a deep breath, feeling as if it could be his last.

Silently, he moves forward. When the medical area comes into view he sees Bruce first, lying on a metal operating table and hooked up to various machines and wrapped in gauze. Dick jerks his eyes away. He can hear the heart monitor beeping– not strongly, but there. It’s enough for now.

Then there’s Alfred, head down, hunched over with his hands braced on the gurney holding blood-splattered surgical tools. Alfred is blood-splattered too.

“Alf?” Dick says softly, and the man’s head snaps up. There’s a moment, just a fraction of a second, where Dick can see pain and exhaustion etched into every line of his face. But then Alfred straightens up, and it’s gone.

Pulling off the latex gloves and ruined apron, Alfred clears his throat. “Master Dick. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” He swallows. “He’s okay, right?”

Alfred pauses for a long time. “No, I cannot say he is. However, I believe he will survive.”

“Okay, that’s. That’s good.” It is. It’s better than it could be. Dick looks at Alfred, who is clearly worn out, despite the stoic face he has put on. “Let me take care of this,” he says, nodding to everything that needs to be washed or thrown out or put away. “You go get cleaned up and eat something.”

Alfred doesn’t even argue.

Dick asks, “Are you okay? Really.”

“It has never been easy to see him be hurt,” Alfred answers, voice low and eyes fixed to the man lying on the table. “Not since he was three years old and fell into a rose bush. He cried out for his father then, too.” He blinks, collects himself, and gives Dick a grateful pat on the shoulder and then he leaves.

Dick gets to work.

He doesn’t let himself think about any of it.

After finishing up and reprogramming the computer to send up an alert if there’s any movement or change in Bruce’s vitals, Dick heads back upstairs. They boys aren’t where he left them, or in any of the sitting rooms, and he’s on his way to check the library when he passes the kitchen, and Alfred is standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and a fond smile on his lips. He doesn’t turn his head when Dick approaches, just nods toward the inside of the room and mutters, voice soft and warm, “Look at them.”

Coming up to stand beside him, Dick does.

Tim and Jason are cooking. Their backs are to the door, and don’t seem to have noticed they’re being observed. There’s a big, steaming pot on the stove and ingredients strewn across the countertops. Jason screws the lid off a spice bottle, smells it, and shakes some of the powder into the pot. He tries another one, pulls at face at it, and puts it back on the spice rack. Nearby, Tim is hacking away at an onion on a bamboo cutting board. Jason leans over, one hand coming to rest carelessly on Tim’s back.

“I said _chop_ , not _obliterate_ ,” he teases.

“Whatever, it’ll still taste good,” Tim fires back. He pauses. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Jason immediately assures him. “It’ll be great. You’re great.”  

“ _You’re_ great,” Tim retorts with the cadence of an insult, and Jason laughs.

“What a difference nine months can make,” Alfred says under his breath, and Dick blinks, surprised, because it really has only been that long, hasn’t it. They met Jason in February, and it’s October now. Nine months. So much has changed in those short nine months. Not even a full year yet, and Dick can’t imagine Tim and Jason without each other. Can’t imagine himself without them.

Dick makes a noise of assent. They watch the boys for a little while longer, how they move around each other so easily, trade teasing barbs mixed with genuine affection, give gentle touches. Dick doesn’t want to interrupt, and clearly Alfred doesn’t either, but he needs to speak with them. He walks into the kitchen, stepping loudly on the tile floor, and the boys turn to face him, going tense. Carefully, Jason reaches over and takes the knife from Tim’s hand, setting it on the counter, and shifts to stand partly behind him, as if to hold him up if need be.

“How is he?” asks Tim.

“He’ll live,” Dick says.

Alfred steps up next to him. “His back is severely broken,” he tells them with a remarkably steady voice. “Such injuries can result in permanent paralysis. The surgery went well, but there is always a risk of complications and in the next several hours we will see if he is stable. Only time will tell how much of his mobility he will regain. That, and his own determination, of which we know he has plenty, hm?” He offers a sly smile, and Tim flickers one back.

Dick is so grateful for Alfred in this moment he wants to sweep the man up in a hug. Jason, too. He knows if it were just himself here to help Tim through this, it wouldn’t be going nearly so well.

“So…” Tim’s eyes flicker hopefully between them. “It’s bad, but he’ll get better,” he summarizes.

“Yes. Although, he won’t be waking up any time soon. I’ve placed him under a medically-induced coma until he has healed somewhat so that he won’t injure himself further.”

Tim slumps in relief, letting his weight rest against Jason, who wraps his arms around Tim’s middle and props his chin on his shoulder. He whispers something, and Tim pats his arm affectionately.

What a difference nine months can make, Dick thinks to himself.  

Tim insists on going down to check on Bruce, and Dick almost doesn’t let him because that is a hard thing to see and he’s supposed to be the one keeping Tim away from things that are hard to see, but he relents because he knows how important it is for Tim to see for himself, to _know_ that Bruce is still breathing, even if it is through a tube. Tim had had to identify his parents’ bodies in the morgue. Jason felt his mother’s hand go slack in his. Dick watched the way his parents went crumpled and still when they hit the ground. They have all seen death take away someone they love, and they need to see that it hasn’t taken another one. And maybe Jason doesn’t know Bruce that well, and Tim and Dick both have very complicated relationships with him, but his is still someone they cannot bear to lose.

He’s someone the city can’t bear to lose. Gotham needs Batman. Dick knows it. Gotham witnessed Bane snap Batman over his knee. People will take advantage, thinking he’s not around. People will be scared. There’s still Batgirl, and Dick knows how capable she is, but at the end of the day she is only one person, and the whole city will be going wild after this.

Dick looks at the Batman suit looming in its case, and next to it Nightwing and Batgirl and Robin, even though those last three aren’t used. Bruce likes symbolism and visual, tangible reminders. Or maybe he has them in hopes that they will be used, someday. Maybe he hopes Babs will come under his wing and make the cave her base of operations. Maybe he hopes Dick and Tim will come back to him. The suits look suddenly very empty, and Batman’s very lonely.

Tim asks Alfred to show him all the different machines Bruce is hooked up to and how they work, and Alfred does, explaining exactly what the lights and beeping and numbers mean. When they’re done Dick suggests they go back up to the kitchen and eat the food the boys left simmering on the stovetop, but Tim refuses to leave.

“You said we won’t know for sure if he’s stable for another few hours, right? So we have to stay close in case something happens,” Tim decides, and there’s no arguing, Dick can tell. So Alfred slips out and returns carrying a tray bearing four bowls of soup and Barbara trailing in after him. She appears a little tired and worried, but prepared to handle anything, and when she gives Dick a reassuring nod, he feels another leg of support slide into place to keep him steady. She gives Tim a hug, and then Jason, who seems happy but confused to see her here.

“So they told you, huh?” she asks Jason.

It’s Tim who answers. “He figured it out,” he says, a soft undercurrent of pride in his voice.

She nods and smiles, ruffling Jason’s hair. “Thought you might. Smart boy.”

Jason lets it happen, just waits for her to stop and tries to straighten his hair back into place. “But why are you here? Why do you know about… all of this?”

Barbara just smirks and points to the Batgirl suit. Jason looks at it, and then back at her, eyes going wide with understanding. His mouth drops open. And then he looks quietly _delighted_ – quietly, because there’s a very injured man a few feet away. “ _Really?_ Wow,” he says wondrously.  

Tim frowns. He actually _pouts_ , like he’s _jealous_ , and Dick just. Chooses to ignore that. Because that is at the very bottom of his priority list for today.

Babs walks over to Bruce’s side and speaks to him softly, and the boys and Dick give her space. They accept the bowls Alfred hands out and start eating where they stand.

“This is really good, guys,” Dick says after swallowing a spoonful of chicken noodle soup.

“It is,” Alfred agrees even though he isn’t eating and Dick suspects the fourth bowl is for Barbara. He must have had some quickly earlier.

The boys mumble thank you’s. A minute later Babs comes and takes the last bowl, and they all eat silently for a long moment. There’s an air of anticipation, of waiting, of worry, but there’s nothing else they can do right now.

Dick needs to discuss a game plan with Babs, but not while the boys are around to listen.

Suddenly, Tim drops his spoon with a splash and says, angrily, “We can’t let Bane get away with this!”

Well. Looks like Tim is going to bring up the game plan discussion himself.

“ _We?_ ” Dick echoes, incredulous.

Tim nods determinedly. “I can be Robin again just long enough to get Bane. You’ll need help out there.”

Dick sets his bowl somewhere without looking just so he won’t throw it. “There’s _no chance in hell_ I’m letting you go out. First, you haven’t been in the field in close to a year, and you haven’t been training for it either– with good reason, because second, the whole reason I came back was to keep you safe and away from all of this.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Stunned, Dick demands, “Excuse me?”

“If you hadn’t taken me away,” Tim says, and his eyes are hard and sad and so many bad things, “I would have been there to save him! If I’d said yes when he offered the suit, if I’d gone back, _I could have saved him._ ”

“Or it could have been _you_ that got hurt. You lying on that table, or worse. You could have _died._ How is that better?”

“Batman is more important than m–”

“ _Tim,”_ Dick cuts in sharply. He’s both pissed off and very worried that he has to say this, because they’ve already had this conversation more than once. It’s like Tim, in his panic and frustration, has regressed, forgetting everything he’s learned in the past year.

The past year.

Dick closes his eyes.

It’s been one year. One year ago in October, Tim’s parents died. _Of course_ he’s freaking out right now.

“You are a _child._ You are _always_ more important. You need to know that, and so does Bruce. _He’s_ the one that failed _you_ , not the other way around.”

“How can you say that?” Tim yells. “He almost died! He’s over there right now in a coma and you’re talking shit?”

“What happened to him last night doesn’t erase everything he did before.”

“Well what about you? If you hadn’t left in the first place, you could have helped him!”

“I needed to help myself!” Dick roars. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done but I had to do it!”

“Well while you were being selfish, Batman almost died!”

There’s a frozen silence. No one moves. Barbara and Alfred are composed but send concerned glances Dick’s way, while Jason looks like he’s debating whether to run out or plant himself in front of Tim. In the end he does neither, because it’s Tim who shifts so that he’s between Jason and Dick. After a moment, Jason moves up to stand by Tim’s side. Dick is so proud of Jason for staying, standing strong, meeting Dick’s eyes even when he knows how furious he must look in this moment, but he can’t focus on that right now.

Dick takes several deep breaths. He can’t let himself lose it. Not in front of Jason. Not in this situation. Not when everyone needs him. Finally he is calm enough to say, “Bruce is an adult who makes his own decisions. He is his own responsibility, not mine and not yours. I understand you’re scared and upset right now, but please remember all the times we’ve talked about this. Don’t let him getting hurt make you question everything, because it doesn’t change anything. It just proves how dangerous it is to do what we do, and why you shouldn’t be doing it. I meant it, Tim. Imagine if you were the one that had gotten hurt. Imagine if Bruce were to make Jason Robin, and he got hurt. Imagine if Jason died.”

Tim reaches out, grasping Jason’s hand so hard their skin turns white. Jason holds on just as tightly.

“I’m not trying to hurt you by saying this,” Dick continues. “I just need you to understand. What Bruce did to me and you was wrong. It doesn’t make him a bad person. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us.” He stops. Swallows. Hasn’t completely come to terms with that part himself, but Tim needs to hear it. “Please, Tim. Tell me you know you can’t be Robin. You told be a few months ago that wouldn’t do this. You promised.”

Dick is surprised by how fragile and desperate his voice sounds on that last word.

Tim stands there, jaw clenched and eyes wet. “Bane…” he eventually croaks out.

“I will take care of Bane,” Dick says. “Please trust me.”

“And me.” Barbara steps forward. “I’ll be with him. I know you don’t want him to go out alone, and he won’t be. I won’t let him be hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dick tells her.

“I know,” she says simply. “It’s Bane’s. The only person at fault when a bad thing happens is the person who did the bad thing.”

Jason speaks up. “So you will be going out. You’ll be Batman.”

With a sigh, Dick nods. He’d wanted to talk this over with Babs first, but the call has already been made. “People need to see Batman, in a way Batgirl and Nightwing can’t replace. They think he’s hurt or dead, and that can get very dangerous. They need to see him take a hit that hard and come right back. They need keep thinking of him as something more than human. So I’ll take over,” Dick concludes, and a heavy weight is bearing down on his chest. “Until Bruce is healed.”

~

Dick can’t stay still. He can’t _not do something_ , not when there are things he could be doing elsewhere and nothing for him to do at the manor. So he leaves. He tells everyone he has things to take care of, which he does, and tells the boys to be good, which they will.

First, he visits Wayne Enterprises. He updates Lucius Fox on the situation and tells him that he will be in charge of the company while Bruce is out of commission. He also assigns him to make a Batman suit Dick’s size, because Bruce has a good forty pounds and three inches on him and an ill-fitting suit could get him killed. Then he sneaks into Bruce’s office and fires off an email from his computer informing the staff that he will be going on a long trip.

Then he goes to the precinct.

Dick knocks on the frosted glass pane of the door, right under the black letters reading, _Captain James Gordon, Gotham City Police._

“Come in,” is the muffled response. He opens the door.

“Officer Grayson,” the captain greets from behind his desk, setting down the papers he was reading. He gives Dick a once-over and, most likely spotting the stress and weariness Dick feels down to his bones, asks, “Everything all right, son?”

Taking advantage of one of the guest chairs, Dick sits. “Yes, sir, thank you. I just wanted to– I’m requesting to move to daytime shifts.”

Gordon leans back, watching Dick carefully from behind large-framed glasses. “Is this about the boys? Is everything going okay with them?”

“Tim and Jason are fine. It’s just that I haven’t been spending enough time with them,” he says, and it really is true, and he feels terrible that he won’t actually be using this to fix that. He’ll have even less time with them, in fact. “And, I don’t like leaving them alone at night,” he adds, which is also true.

Gordon nods slowly in understanding, the kind of understanding only a parent can have. “I have no problem with taking you off graveyard. I’ll speak with Morris, she’s flexible with hours and wouldn’t mind a switch.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dick says sincerely.

Gordon leans forward and his voice goes gentle and for a moment, he’s not Dick’s CO. He’s just a man, a friend, a fellow parent. “It’s hard to be a father. Brother, guardian, whatever it is. When you’re responsible for a whole other life and you don’t even feel like you’re ready to be responsible for your own. And you’ve got two. Two teenage boys in the span of one year. It’s a remarkable thing you’re doing, Dick, and I can see how much you care about those boys. Babs tells me how well Jason is adjusting. You’re in a tough situation and you’ve got a good heart, so if there’s anything I can do to help you three, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” he repeats, and this is time it’s quiet and he has to swallow first to get the words out.

With one final nod, the captain is back to being the captain. “Right. If there’s nothing else, would you tell Morris I need to speak with her?”

Hearing the clear dismissal, Dick smiles and stands. When his hand is on the door handle Gordon clears his throat.

“Oh, and…” He grimaces, shakes his head in commiseration. “The age they’re at, there’s gonna be some ugly teenage bullshit in your future. I don’t have any advice for that, other than to hang on tight to whatever sanity you can.”

Dick laughs. “You don’t know the half of it, sir.”

~

There’s an itch on the back of his neck. There’s an itch on his neck and it’s been there for ten minutes, driving him crazy, and he can’t scratch it without taking off the whole cowl. Dick lets out a frustrated noise.

“What does he do when he has an itch?” he demands, making a futile effort to smack at his neck through the thick material.

“Twenty bucks says he trained his body to not get itchy. Can you imagine if a criminal saw Batman scratch himself? All respect would fly out the window. He’d be _human_ ,” Batgirl says dramatically, and Dick laughs.

“Oh that’s weird, don’t do that.”

Dick asks, “What, laugh?”

“Yeah, not when you’re in the big man’s suit.”

“Batman laughs sometimes,” he argues.

“When he’s trying to freak someone out.”

Dick tilts his head in concession. He looks out over the city, lit up in the night. He needs to get out there soon, be seen. He waited a few days until the switch with Morris went through and he had the night off and for Fox to finish his suit, and already those few days have been rough. Babs had it handled, but it’s just not sustainable for her to take on the whole city alone. And besides, Gotham needs to see Batman.

Putting on the suit earlier had felt like stepping into a cell and tossing the key out through the bars. It felt heavier than he knew it to be. And then he’d walked out to find the boys waiting.

“That’s so sick,” Jason breathed.

Tim turned to him with a raised eyebrow, amused.

“Oh fuck off,” Jason mumbled, giving Tim a light shove. “I’ve never seen Batman up close. And you think it’s cool too, don’t pretend like you don’t.”

Dick gasped, hand over his heart. “Tim thinks I’m _cool?_ ”

“ _Batman_ is cool. _You_ are still a huge dork.”

“Nope! I’m Batman now. You’re my fanboy,” he sing-songed. Tim gagged, but Dick saw real worry on his face. “Hey. It’s gonna be fine.”

Tim looked away. “I know.”

“I mean it,” he said, and waited until Tim glanced back and met his eyes, and then caught Jason’s too. To both of them: “I mean it. I’ll be okay. I’ve done this thousands of times. Doesn’t matter what suit I’m in, I know what I’m doing.”

They’d seen him off, waving goodbye in the Batmobile’s rear-view mirror. It’s a school night, but they wanted to be there for his first patrol. They’ll sleep at the manor and Dick will drive Tim to school in the morning. Alfred had volunteered do it, but Dick pointed out he needs to stay and watch over Bruce, who has stabilized but is still in bad shape. Tim has been wanting to spend all of his free time at the manor these past few days, uncaring of the fact that Bruce won’t be waking up soon– and where Tim goes Jason will follow.

He thinks about what he told the boys, that it doesn't matter what suit he’s in, he’s still himself. He repeats in over and over in his head.

He doesn’t want to be Batman.

He doesn’t want to be Bruce.

He’s _Dick_ , he’s _Nightwing_ , and he’s worked so hard for that. Worked so hard to find out who he is and how he wants to live, just so he wouldn't end up exactly where he is right now.

From his left, down Giordano Street, comes the sound of glass shattering and an alarm pierces the air. He readies himself to jump and swoop into action, but there’s a hand on his arm.

“It’ll be alright, D.”

Dick closes his eyes for a brief moment. He nods, even though he feels anything but alright. He’s done this thousands of times, and Babs is with him, but…

It’s not getting hurt that he’s afraid of.

He throws himself off the roof and gets to work.

~

Alfred sets down a tray of food. Dick blinks at it, his eyes strained from staring at the computer screen, going through all of Bruce’s files for information on Bane. Tim’s been pestering him every day about catching him, and Dick is trying– he really, really is. But no one has seen a hint of Bane since the night he snapped Batman like a twig in front of the entire city. He’s probably in Argentina by now.

“Master Clark called again.”

Dick sighs. “Okay, I’ll call him back soon.” And Diana and Wally and Barry. They’ve all called to see how he’s doing, how Bruce is doing, but Dick just doesn’t have time for any of that right now.

He turns back to the monitor.

~

Dick touches down silently on top of the GCPD. “Captain.”

His Batman voice is pretty good, he thinks. He’s had a lot of practise mocking it over the years.

Gordon turns and watches him for a moment before cranking the lever to shut off the Bat Signal. “Good to see you up and around so soon.”

“Batman is never down for long.”

Gordon nods. His trench coat flitters around him in the brisk autumn wind. A shine on his glasses keeps Dick from seeing his eyes. “Of course.”

Jerking his chin toward the giant strobe light Dick asks, “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, not that I know of. Just heard you were back already and wanted to check in.”

“Right.” He hesitates. He’s trying to remember how interactions between Gordon and Batman usually go, but it’s been a long time since he was around to see it and their dynamic may have changed since then. Finally he settles on, “Thank you for your concern. If there’s a problem, use the light and I’ll be there.”

“Good. That’s good,” Gordon mumbles, turning to gaze over the city, and this part Dick is sure of. This is when Batman makes his exit, quickly and quietly, while the captain is still speaking, and when he looks back he’ll sigh and shake his head. So Dick does just that and slips away, but he still catches what Gordon is says.

“Stay crouched down as much as possible. It’ll hide the fact that you’re not as tall as him.”

~

Dick is tired. He thinks he’s been more tired before, he just can’t remember when. Last night he caught two carjackers and a pickpocket and scared the shit out of some kids drinking at the park. He headed back to the cave at around three a.m. and spent the next couple hours trying to track down Bane. Dick’s been spending most of what little free time he has in the past three weeks on trying to find him. All he does is work his shift during the day, patrol as Batman at night, try to find Bane, and drive Tim to school in the morning on the days they’ve slept at the manor. (They’ve been staying there a lot because Tim wants to be near Bruce just in case anything happens, but sometimes they’re at the apartment because Jason is more comfortable there.) And then he goes straight back to work again. It’s an endless cycle, rarely broken by sleep. Even when he tries to fit in a couple hours of sleep, he just ends up lying there thinking about all the things he could be doing, things he needs to be doing, and ends up not sleeping at all, so what’s the point in trying.

It’s really not all that different from when he was in Blüdhaven, he thinks. A cop by day and Nightwing by night, free time being spent tracking the movements of gangs and crime families. Except. Except he has kids now. He has two boys that he refuses to let become less of a priority. They need his time and attention and love. They are always in the back of his mind. Sometimes they are the reason he can’t sleep.

He gets home this morning early enough to say hi and bye to Tim before he leaves for school but he walks into an empty apartment. He calls their names, checks all the rooms, the boys aren’t here. It’s possible they’ve already left, but Tim never goes to school earlier than he has to.

Picking up the landline, Dick calls the manor. After a few rings there’s a hesitant, “Hello?”

Dick frowns. “Jason? Why are you there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why aren’t you at home?”

“We… told you we’d be here,” Jason answers slowly.

Did they? Dick could have sworn they said they were going home yesterday. Shit. This means Tim needs a ride to school. He checks his watch and curses. “Okay, tell Tim I’m sorry I’m late but I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Oh, um, Tim’s not here. Alfred took him to school.”

“Fuck,” Dick sighs under his breath. Alfred has enough to do, being a full-time doctor to Bruce on top of all of his usual tasks. Dick’s been trying to make sure he and the boys are out of the way as much as possible, but he slipped up today. He was already there, he could have taken Tim, but he forgot– he mixed up the days, maybe. He never came up from the cave and so he didn’t see them.

He’s barely seen them at all, the past few weeks. Only when he’s driving them somewhere, and even then he’s distracted. The other day he nearly left Jason behind. Tim had to stop him from pulling away without him.

“Wait!” he’d said, throwing a hand over Dick’s on the shifter. “We can’t leave yet, Jason’s not here.”

Dick blinked, trying to remember where everyone said they would be that day. “Is he coming with us?”

“Yeah, he’s working with Babs today. You said you’d drop him at the library.”

“Oh. Well then go get him,” he said, urging Tim out of the car. “Hurry, you’ll be late!”

He had spent the few minutes until Tim came back, pulling Jason along, trying to calm himself and sort out the mess of his brain.

He does the same thing now, until he’s interrupted by Jason clearing his throat down the phone line.

“Okay,” Dick says, eyes closed. “Okay. Please thank Alfred for me when he gets back. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Sure, Dick. See you.”

He hangs up.

Dick thumps his head against the wall.

~

“Remember when Halloween used to be fun?” Dick asks, kicking the knife out of some Joker wannabe’s hand.

Babs snorts in his earpiece. “You mean this isn’t fun for you?”

He knocks the guy out and decides to leave him there to sleep it off. He’s just a drunk who took his costume to seriously– oh, the irony. Shooting his grapple gun up, Batman flies up and takes to the rooftops, keeping an eye out for further disturbances.

A few minutes later Batgirl’s voice tickles his inner ear again. This time she’s lost the lightness in her tone. “D, you might want to get over to Crime Alley ASAP.”

Instantly changing direction, he says, “On my way. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Batgirl replies. “But I’m looking at two boys who might not be, after you get here.”

A short while later Dick comes to a stop next to Batgirl on top of an old, rusty water tower. She points down at something below them. He scans the street… and frowns. “What the fuck?”

Jason and Tim are down there. His Jason and Tim are down there chatting up an old homeless man in exchange for a cigarette. Dick watches them talk for a minute and then move on a few feet to a woman clutching a scrawny dog to her side. Jason hands her a cigarette and Tim pulls out a pack of beef jerky for the dog to chew on while they talk.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he repeats more vehemently and pinches the bridge of his nose– but he’s wearing the damn cowl, so it doesn’t help any.

Batgirl shrugs. “I haven’t gotten close enough to hear what they’re saying. I didn’t want to scare them off before you got here. But they’ve made friends with a dozen people so far,” she tells him, nodding down the block.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” he says. “I’ve got this, you don’t have to stay.”

Dick hears her swing away as he slips down a fire escape on the side of the building the boys are passing. They’re coming close, at the mouth of the alley between this building and the next, and he’s about to call out to them when he hears a gasp and an uptick in the sound of heels on concrete.

“Jason, is that you?”

And then there’s Stacey, rushing over excitedly.

Dick pulls back into the shadows, watching. Waiting.

Jason grins, accepting the hug she gives him. “Heya, Stacey.”

The woman pulls back and scrutinises him, ruffling his hair and squeezing his arms and shaking him gently. “Look at you! You’re so tall and grown up now.”

“Thanks,” Jason replies sheepishly.

“But,” she starts, glancing around, eyes filling with concern, “why are you here? Is something– are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise. My friend and I–” he motions toward Tim next to him, who gives a small wave, “we’re asking around to see if anyone knows anything about Bane.”

Only years of training keep Dick from making a sound, keep him perfectly still.

Stacey blanches. “Bane? Are you crazy? Go back to whatever place you’ve been these past few months. Stay away from here and stay away from all this– this crazy shit.”

“It’s important,” Tim says seriously.

“Yeah? So is not getting mixed up in all the freaky shit that goes down in this city.” Stacey shakes her head.

“But–”

“She’s right,” Dick finally interrupts. He leans forward so he’s partly visible.

Jason sucks in a sharp breath. Tim grabs his arm tightly and pastes on a look of wonder. “Wow!” he says enthusiastically. “Hi, Batman!”

Dick ignores him. He growls, “ _Go home,_ ” and then he fades back into the darkness. He doesn’t stay to watch them leave, but he knows they will.

He’s pissed off for the rest of the night, and tries to channel it into his work. A couple of thugs get more broken bones than they usually would. Halloween is a terrible night for crime, full of drunks and drugs and the feeling of anonymity that comes with wearing a costume, and he’s kept busy until the early hours of the morning but eventually he calls it night. He goes back to the cave to strip and wash the night off him, and then he’s about to drive to the apartment but he pauses. He should check whether they’re here, first. He’s learned his lesson.

Fuming, he heads for the boys’ room. Alfred had made up two seperate rooms for them but more often than not Jason can be found in Tim’s. On the way he passes Bruce’s bedroom, and he glances inside to find Alfred checking on him. They moved Bruce up here after they were sure he was stable.

Stepping inside, Dick asks, “Are they here?”

“Yes. You’ll find them in Master Timothy’s bedroom, I believe.” Carefully, Alfred peels away the bandage on Bruce’s face where his chin had been sliced open by Bane’s fist and starts to clean the wound. It’s healing nicely but will probably leave a scar, despite Alfred’s suturing skills.

“I’m sorry they called you to come pick them up. You’re already so busy, and I’ve told them to not bother you unless they need to.”

“I must say,” Alfred muses, not looking away from his work, “that was very stupid of you.”

Surprised, Dick flinches back. “What?”

“They did not call me.”

He frowns. “How did they get here? There’s no bus that goes from the city to Wayne Manor.”

“No,” Alfred allows. “However there is a bus that runs to just over the Kane. I assume they walked the rest of the way. They were quite sweaty when they arrived.”

“They _walked?_ ” Dick yells. “In the _middle of the night_ on _Halloween_ , they _walked_ here from the _Kane Bridge?_ Oh they’re in _so much trouble_ ,” he spits, turning to stomp down the hall, but then there’s a hand around his bicep.

Alfred gives him a stern look. “Listen to me, Master Richard: I am _never_ too busy to take care of this family. Taking care of this family is my greatest responsibility and joy.” He lets go, resting his hand gently on Bruce’s arm. “That includes you, and those two boys. It is not a _bother_ , it is a _privilege_.”

Dick looks down. Grinds his teeth. “You just… you have so much to do, I don’t want to–”  

“I have always had much to do,” Alfred interrupts. “I will continue having much to do. Driving Master Tim to school is not one thing too many. I enjoy our car rides. In fact, I enjoy having both of them here. I have missed having children to look after.”

His eyes are so sincere.

Stepping closer, Dick brings his arms up around Alfred’s shoulders, and the hug is instantly returned.

“You do not have to do this alone,” Alfred says into his ear.

Dick’s heart feels like it’s crumbling inside his chest.

~

Leaving Bruce’s room, he’s grateful to have talked to Alfred first. He knows it would have been bad to talk to them while being as mad as he was. He’s still angry, of course. But it’s been tempered.

Swinging the door open, he finds them slumped over across the huge bed, on top of the covers, an abandoned Scrabble board between them. For a split-second he considers leaving them to sleep but then Jason, sensing another presence in the room, jerks awake.

He looks up at Dick with wide eyes, all traces of sleep immediately cleared away. Reaching over, he shakes Tim and hisses, “Wake up!”

Swatting at him, Tim mumbles a protest.

Dick snaps, “Tim!” and he bolts upright.

“Oh, hey, Dick,” he says nervously.

There’s a moment of quiet, and then Dick demands, “How the fuck did you think what you were doing was okay?” Without letting them answer, he continues, “How did you figure it was a good idea to go out to the worst part of the city on the most dangerous night of the year and ask around for info on a supervillain? Every part of that is the most stupid thing you could have done! And you didn’t think I’d find out?”

“We thought you’d be too busy to notice us,” Tim mutters.

“It’s a good thing you were wrong, who knows what could have happened to you out there! What did you even think was going to happen? I’ve been working on this for a month and you thought you’d just go out and crack the case wide open in one night?”

Jason speaks up. “Rolanda mentioned seeing something at the docks–”

“Two weeks ago! I followed up on that lead two weeks ago!”

“We didn’t know that,” Tim protests bitterly, standing up from the bed. “You don’t ever tell us anything.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, this shouldn’t have anything to do with you. I’ll tell you when I catch Bane, but until then you need to stay _out_ of this.” Dick presses his palms over his eyes. “ _I need_ you to stay out of this.”

Because if they don’t, then he’s just like Bruce. Allowing all this shit to affect them, to become part of their lives when their lives shouldn’t be anything but school and skateboarding and ice cream in the park because they’re _kids_.

And suddenly Dick is just… so tired. Tired of getting angry and feeling alone and of being tired.

He sits down, right there on the rug in the middle of Tim’s bedroom. All of this just piled on one by one and he barely noticed the added weight each time, until it was crushing him. He made himself Nightwing on his own, and took in Tim on his own, and then Jason, and then after that what was one more thing? He thought he could do everything because it didn’t seem like that many things, but it is, it’s too much.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks softly.

Dick shakes his head. “I’m really tired, guys.”

“We know.”

“And I’m… sad. I’m still mad at Bruce because getting hurt doesn’t take away what he’s done to make me mad, but I’m sad that he’s hurt, and I’m sad that I’m mad that I’m sad. And I’m mad about what you did tonight.”

“I wasn’t trying to be Robin, I just– we just wanted to help you,” Tim says.

“I don’t need your help.” Tim opens his mouth to argue but Dick holds up a hand, finally looking up. “I don’t need _your_ help. But.” He takes a deep breath. “But I think I do need someone else’s. I need to call Clark and Wally and…” And everyone who has been trying to offer their help this whole time.

And this is the thing, isn’t it. This is part of what makes him different from Bruce: Dick has friends, and he asks for their help.

He’d forgotten that, somehow. Something about being _Batman_ made him feel like he had to handle everything on his own, because that’s all he’s ever seen Batman do. But that’s not how Dick handles things, and that’s not how Dick has to be Batman. He can be Batman the Dick Grayson way, not the Bruce Wayne way.

The anger and tension and stress drains away– not all of it, but enough. Enough that he can find a small smile for Tim and Jason.

“I’m going to call in reinforcements, alright? So stop worrying. And feel free to ask Alfred for rides or whatever you need. I know I said not to bother him, but forget about that. He wants to take care of you. Of us.”

Jason slides off the bed and sits down in front of Dick. “I think we should move here. Bruce is here, and Alfred is here, and you need to be here because the Batman stuff is here. I know you want to keep us separate from all the Batman stuff, but that means keeping us separate from you. We don’t see you that much with how things are right now. Wouldn’t it be better, not having to drive back and forth from the apartment all the time? And the case stuff, well, we can stay out of it.” Dick gives him a doubtful look and he insists, “We can. Right, Tim?”

Jason twists to look up but Tim is already sitting down next to him, the last piece to their little triangle on the carpet. “Totally, I swear. And Alfred said it won’t be that long until he lets Bruce wake up, and he’ll be healing for a long time. We can keep him company.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that…” Dick sighs.

Tim lifts a sardonic eyebrow. “What, you think he’s gonna slap a Robin suit on me and take me for a ride around town in his wheelchair?”

In spite of himself, Dick chuckles.

Letting Tim and Jason come back to this place is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid. And they want him to bring them himself.

But they’re right. It would make it easier to operate out of the cave if he lived right upstairs. And he could keep track of his boys and actually know where they are. And where they are is the safest place on the east coast.

“Well,” he says. “Alfred did mention he really likes having you two around, for some reason.”

Grinning, Tim shoves Dick. Dick shoves him back. Tim throws himself on top of him, trying to pin him, laughing.

“Jason, get his other arm!”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but then Jason comes diving into the fray. But It’s not Dick he goes for.

Jason tackles Tim to the floor and Dick laughs and cheers him on. The boys slap at each other and grapple, and Tim has better form but Jason has size and strength and– and, well, Dick knows exactly what Tim is capable of, and he thinks he isn’t really trying that hard to roll Jason off of him. He’s flushing red and Dick thinks it’s from more than the effort of his half-assed attempts to get away. He’s flushed like he was in the bathroom that morning when he’d been looking at Jason’s body, and Dick doesn’t have a damn clue what to do about it.

This could be very, very bad.

Least of which because it means he’s going to have a very awkward _talk_ with them.

When Jason gets both of his hands pinned down, Tim squeaks. “Off,” he says breathlessly, and Jason obeys right away, laughing.

“Told you I didn’t need you to teach me how to fight!”

Tim won’t meet anyone’s eye. “I’m just… tired. Your technique is shit, Todd.”

“It is,” Dick agrees. “I could teach you some things, if you want. Self-defense is important.”

“I can defend myself! Did you not just see?”

Dick bites back a derisive laugh. “I saw you take down someone smaller than you. Try and fight _me_ sometime,” he challenges.

Rolling his eyes, Jason retorts, “Yeah sure, and risk you breaking a hip, old man?”

For a moment, Dick is thrown back in time. He’s sure he said something like that to Bruce before. He’d been a little younger than Jason is now, and Bruce about Dick’s age. He realises how very young Bruce was when he took Dick in. Realises how young he himself still is, even though it feels like he’s lived a hundred lifetimes.

“Excuse you, mister, I am in the prime of my life,” Dick says with mock-offense. “I’m a fresh twenty-five. Now, if one of you youngsters would help me up...”

Alfred appears in the doorway, a soft smile in the corner of his lips. “Breakfast is ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost all objectivity for this chapter, hope it was good lol 
> 
> I seriously love every single comment, y'all are the best <3333


	15. 2.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulls Tim into a hug, and Tim’s face is kind of mashed into Dick’s armpit, but he doesn’t really care. At least, not until Dick turns it into more of a headlock and starts aggressively rubbing at Tim’s hair, messing it up. Tim squawks in protest and slaps blindly until Dick decides to let him go, laughing.
> 
> Jason walks in right then, and Tim ducks down to hide his reddened face, fingers scrambling to fix his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOHHHH GOT SO MUCH LOVE for the last chapter thank you so so so so much! seriously y'all made me cry <3<3<3<3
> 
> fyi Dick and Tim have a conversation about Jason in this chapter but I’m telling you right now that Jason does not hear any of it. It always bothers me when I’m reading about people talking about someone else where that person could possibly hear them– the whole time I can’t focus on what’s happening because I’m thinking about whether the third party will walk in, or if they’ve been secretly listening. So for your peace of mind, I’m telling you: Jason really does leave the apartment and does not come back while they’re talking about him.

 

“How’s it coming?” Dick asks, leaning in the doorway. 

“Good,” Tim answers as he scribbles his name on the box he just finished taping up. He’s packing for his fourth move in just one year and this is the first time he’s actually happy about it. Well, he’d been kind of happy moving in with Dick in December because he was really cool, but Tim was also really confused and scared and hurt back then. This time he’s excited. He’s finally going to have all his people together in one house, and he’ll be able to take care of all of them.

He was terrified he would lose Bruce. He still is, a little. But he trusts Alfred and Dick, and he’ll be there all the time now. It’ll be so much easier now that they won’t have to ferry back and forth between the apartment and the manor. He’ll still have to come into the city to go to school, which means he’ll have to get up a whole thirty minutes earlier to make it to his first class on time, and that sucks, but he’ll take it. It’ll be better than constantly worrying. It’ll be better for everyone, but especially Dick. 

Tim feels really bad about how the past month has been for Dick. He was so stressed out, and Tim didn’t help anything. Even when he tried to help, he just made it worse. 

“Hey, Dick.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

Looking up at Dick he feels small, but not in a bad way. He’s looking up at his big brother, his guardian, his protector, his rock. The person that he knows will make everything okay. He looks up at him, and he knows what he’s about to say is long overdue.

“I really don’t want to be Robin.” 

Dick doesn’t say anything, just comes to settle down on the carpet close to him. Tim wonders if he’s as tired of having this conversation as Tim is. But this will be the last time. 

“I’m sorry. About all those things I said– about you being selfish… I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know,” Dick tells him, not unkindly. “Thank you.”

He pulls Tim into a hug, and Tim’s face is kind of mashed into Dick’s armpit, but he doesn’t really care. At least, not until Dick turns it into more of a headlock and starts aggressively rubbing at Tim’s hair, messing it up. Tim squawks in protest and slaps blindly until Dick decides to let him go, laughing. 

Jason walks in right then, and Tim ducks down to hide his reddened face, fingers scrambling to fix his hair. 

“I’m running down to get more tape, I’ll be back soon,” Jason tells them.  

Dick asks, “Can you grab another pair of scissors too? Thanks.” 

Jason says, “Sure thing,” and Tim tilts his head up in time to watch him turn and leave. He’s wearing Dick’s GCPD windbreaker. He loves that jacket. He wears it a lot when he goes out of the house. It’s the same one Dick let him borrow when they met. 

He told Tim once about the night Dick found him, and he made it sound way less terrifying than Tim knows it had to be. He knows Jason had been so, so scared, and he’s sure it wasn’t really all that funny at the time, but Jason somehow had Tim laughing for most of the story. 

The jacket is still too big but Jason fills it out a lot better now, Tim thinks as he disappears down the hall. 

The front door opens and shuts. 

Dick turns to him, asks, “So. Is there anything you want to tell me?” and his eyes are so knowing and Tim feels completely seen, like every one of his thoughts and feelings are just a book in Dick’s hands, and he’s both relieved and panicked. He should’ve seen this coming. He knew Dick knew, that Dick saw the way Tim looks at Jason, the way he reacts to him. 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. Wiggles his suddenly icy toes. “Your haircut looks stupid.”

Dick sighs and keeps looking at him expectantly. “I think we should talk about it.”

There’s this bubble blowing up inside him, full of words he’s been holding back for weeks,  _ months _ . “Talking about your hair won’t make it look any less lame.” 

“Tim,” he says with mild exasperation. “You know what I mean. Are you going to say it or should I?”

“Fine!” Tim snaps, taking a needle to the bubble. It bursts, and so does he. “I like Jason! I like Jason. I  _ like _ him. He’s my best friend and I want to be around him all the time and do everything with him. And I don’t  _ have to _ – like, I’m okay without him. But when he’s not with me I’m just thinking how I’ll tell him about it later. I want to do anything if it’ll make him happy. And I want… I want to–” He makes a terrible, choked-off whining noise and covers his face with his hands. He opens his mouth and lets the words do what they want. 

“I want to kiss him,” he whispers. “It wasn’t there at first– or for a while, but then we were hanging out in here and he fell asleep on my bed and I was just staring at him and it– it felt like. A heart boner. Shut up!” he says, peeking through his fingers at the way Dick is stifling a laugh. “I don’t know how else to say it! Anyway, I had gotten that feeling before, but then he moved and his shirt lifted and I saw part of his stomach and I wanted to touch it and– I looked away and felt really bad because he never wants anyone to see him, and he definitely wouldn’t want me touching him like that.”

“A  _ heart boner _ ,” Dick wheezes. 

“I hate you!” Tim yells, wishing he could lift up the flooring and crawl underneath it. 

“I’m sorry.” Dick schools his expression into something serious and understanding, though the corner of his mouth still twitches slightly. “Sorry. Keep going.” 

Dropping his hands, Tim shrugs. “It’s just. When it was just the– the  _ heart thing _ , I thought it was just because we’re really good friends, you know? But then I saw his stomach and there was…” 

“An actual boner?” Dick supplies.  

“I’d rather explode than be having this conversation right now.”

“Believe me, Tim, I would too.”

“Great. Yes, an  _ actual boner _ ,” he grits out. “There was that, and that’s not something that happens for friends, so.” 

“So?”

“So am I gay?” Tim asks, softly, desperately. 

“I don’t know. Are you?” 

Tim drawls miserably, “ _ I don’t know _ ,” and slumps sideways to lie the floor, smacking his hand on a half-full cardboard box of cassette tapes and not caring. He really doesn’t know. He knows he’s into Jason, and he’s not into anyone else, but he doesn’t know if it’s because Jason is a boy or if it’s because Jason is… Jason. 

Dick gives a small smile. “Look, sport, I can’t answer that for you. But you don’t need to answer it either, okay? Especially not any time soon. I know there can be security found in having a label, or a way to identify yourself, and if, one day, you figure out exactly what you want to call it, then that’s great. But if not, you’re still you and you still feel the way you feel and want the things you want. That’s what’s important.” 

For a while Tim just stays there, silent, curled up. Then he asks, “Do you think he’s noticed?”

“No way,” Dick answers immediately, and Tim lets out a relieved sigh. “I don’t think he’d ever see it coming from you. If anyone else looked at him the way you do, he would, but not you.”

“That makes it worse!” Tim cries. “He  _ trusts _ me not to… and I…”

“It’s okay, Tim. You’re not doing or feeling anything wrong.” 

Flopping onto his back, Tim says, “It feels like I am. Every time he sits close or lets me pet his hair, I feel like I’m lying to him. He wouldn’t be okay with it if he knew.”

“It’s not lying, Tim. It’s your own personal business and it may involve him but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to tell him or anyone else about it. And you’re right that he would probably be uncomfortable. Jason doesn’t… view touch and sex–” Tim cringes at that word “–the same way we do. He doesn’t really see it as a good thing. But I don’t believe he’ll think that way forever. Just look at how he’s changed since he got here. He lets both of us hug him now, and I bet he never thought he would be okay with that. I’m not guaranteeing he’ll change, or even saying that he needs to, because he has his reasons for feeling the way he does. But be patient. Let him figure himself out just like you’re trying to.

“Besides,” Dick adds, giving him a  _ look _ , “you’re both too young for sex anyway.” 

“I didn’t say I wanted to have sex!” Tim’s sure if he actually got to  _ touch _ Jason he would have an aneurysm and drop dead.. Hell, this conversation is going to do him in. He’s not ready for any of it. 

Dick throw his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying!”

“Well you don’t need to! That’s not… It’s not relevant. To anything.”

“It kind of is,” Dick argues. “And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you two sharing a room anymore. I think when we get to Bruce’s place you should have different bedrooms.”

Tim sits up. “I just told you we’re  _ not _ doing anything, and we aren’t  _ going _ to be doing anything.” 

“It would be better for you, I think, to have some separation. You need your own space. It’s important for anyone to have that, but especially when you’re trying to figure yourself out, you need to be able to do that. Give yourself the space and freedom to do that. Alone. You both could use some privacy.”

Tim stares at him. “Are you telling me that I need somewhere to jerk off.”

Closing his eyes, Dick heaves a deep sigh. “That’s a part of it, yes. Although I gotta say, you’ve never been cleaner with all the extra long showers you’re taking. I might miss that.” He looks at Tim, who feels like his face is just going to melt right off. “But it’s about more than that.”

“What are you even worried about, us getting pregnant? Pretty sure that can’t happen, Dick.”

“No, you don’t need to worry about pregnancy, but there’s more to sex than that. There’s the extreme intimacy involved and the emotions it can cause, and you need to wait until you’re ready to handle that. You’re just kids. Let yourself be a kid.”

“Oh my god,” Tim groans. “I get it! We’re not having sex! Can we  _ please _ make this be  _ over? _ ” 

“I just–” 

“Dick,” he cuts in, “you don’t need to be freaking out.”

“I’m not  _ freaking out _ ,” he grumbles. 

Tim looks down, and his voice is sadder than he means it to be when he says, “It’s like you said, he’s not into that stuff anyway. I mean, we’re definitely not going to be messing around if he doesn’t even want to kiss me.”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, full of sympathy. “But I also said to be patient. Okay?”

Tim nods. 

Dick adds, “And there’s way more to relationships than kissing and sex.” 

“Yeah. But it’d be nice,” he says wryly. 

“It is pretty nice,” Dick assures him. 

Glaring, Tim gives a dry, “Thanks.” 

Dick, the dick, grins. Tim is a little annoyed, and a lot embarrassed about the whole conversation, but he does feel better. If it’d been anyone else in the world, he would have run away from talking about this, but Dick is… Dick. He’s the best. 

“So how’s school?” he asks, and Tim is so grateful for the change of topic. 

A few minutes later they hear the front door shut, and then Jason comes in and passes of a new pair of scissors to Dick. 

“Thanks! Hey, stay a minute,” Dick says. “We were talking about you two getting separate rooms at Bruce’s house.”

Tim, loading up the rest of his cassettes into the box, freezes.  

“Oh, um…” Jason glances at Tim nervously. “That’s actually great. I want my own room.”

“Really?” Tim asks, and he knows he’s pouting. Why wouldn’t Jason want to share with him any more? For a second he worries that maybe Jason  _ has _ noticed how Tim feels and wants to get away. “Why?” 

“It’s just– You’re so messy!”

Dick snorts.

“Wha– I’m not  _ that _ bad,” Tim protests. 

“Yes you are,” they say at the same time.

“It’s fucking gross,” Jason adds. “You’re my favorite person and I’d do anything for you, but I’m really sick of picking up your shit. My dream is a room where I can sleep without having nightmares about moldy plates coming to life and eating me.” 

Dick  _ cackles _ . 

Tim crosses his arms. “Fine. Then I won’t have to listen to you sleep-talking at four in the morning.”

“I do that?” Jason asks with a surprised laugh. 

“Yes, and it keeps me up.” But he doesn’t actually mind. He loves to hear it, and it only keeps him from going back to sleep because he lies there thinking about how cute it is. 

“What do I say?”

“Usually just random words, but sometimes I think you’re quoting books. Last week you said something like,  _ how forward of you, Mr. Darcy _ .”

Jason’s cheeks go pink. 

“Good, you’ll both be happy with the change,” Dick says. 

And they will, won’t they. Tim will miss having Jason so close, but really, they spend so much time together already. It’ll be fine. It’ll be good. Like Dick said, it’s good for them to have privacy. 

There’ll be a lot of changes. Tim hopes they’ll all be good. 

Tim is excited. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Tim's feelings don't seem out of the blue? I've been hinting at it for a while but it grew when I was writing other povs so this is the first time we've actually gotten it from Tim's side, and it's already fully fledged. Hope you don't feel like you missed out on anything, not really seeing it grow from his pov..
> 
> btw I’m writing Tim as demisexual, but I’m not tagging the fic with demi!Tim because I never actually use the term in the fic. (As far as I can tell that word wasn’t around yet in the time frame this fic is set.) I don’t want to bait anyone thinking they’ll get some representation only for it to not use the word. I hope you can still find some satisfaction in how I’ve written him and his attraction  
> Edit: nvm I decided to tag demi Tim-- thank you, Absolutely_flabbergasted


	16. 2.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re both photographs of Jason, bent down next to the Batmobile’s wheel with a tire iron in hand, though one is about two years old and the other is new. In one, he looks small and nervous. In the other, he looks happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, the first 1.5k of this chapter is a panic attack. I debated whether to include it because we’ve already seen Jason going through a few of them, and I don’t want to beat a dead horse, but this one is different in how it manifests, is handled, and resolves, and it’s a really important step for Jason and Jason-and-Tim.
> 
> The rest of it is pretty fucking soft

 Jason has a panic attack the first night after they move into the manor. Nothing big happens to set him off; he’s looking around his new room, and feeling the _newness_ . Not in the room itself, because these walls are much older than Jason himself and probably most of the hand-carved furniture is too. But new in that, it’s not the apartment he’d grown comfortable in, it’s not what he’s used to. It’s not completely new, it’s the same room that Alfred made up for him a couple weeks ago when he and Tim decided to spend the night, so he’s slept here before; and it’s not that he’s scared, really. He knows he’s not in danger here. It’s _Batman’s house,_ and Dick and Tim and Alfred are all here. But still he feels wrong and exposed because this isn’t his home, and before when they spent the night here he had the option to leave and go back there and he doesn’t have that anymore. This just isn’t his safe place yet and he’s stuck here. It took him a long time to truly feel comfortable at the apartment, and he’s going to to have to wait a long time again to truly feel comfortable here.

It starts with an uncomfortable wave of burning and tingling that blooms from his chest, rushes all over, across his face and down to his fingers and toes. And then right after that, the shaking. It’s not dangerous, he knows. Tim’s told him all about the whys and hows of what’s happening to his body during these episodes, using terms like _fight or flight_ and _stress-response hyperstimulation_ , which just mean his leg bounces faster than he thought it could, and his teeth chatter so he keeps them clenched tight, and all of the sudden everything inside his body wants to be out of it, making him run to the bathroom.

It’s really convenient that bedrooms at the manor have their own attached bathrooms.

A while later he shuffles over to Tim’s room. The door is cracked so Jason pushes inside.

Tim glances up from his homework and does a double-take. “Dude, are you okay?”

All Jason can do is shake his head a little. He walks over to Tim’s bed and starts to sit but then his legs are moving the other direction, and he ends up pacing the perimeter of the room, over and over, because it feels like if he were to sit still he would explode. It reminds him of the first day of school when they ran the mile in gym class and each step sent his nervous energy echoing around inside his body, growing and growing. It reminds him of that day Dick took him to jump on the trampolines and that had felt similar but he’d been able to go until he was too tired to move. So maybe he just needs to exhaust himself.

He says as much to Tim. It’s kinda hard to speak because his teeth are chattering and he can’t remember anymore how much air is supposed to come in and go out when he breathes. “Maybe I should. G-go for a run ‘round the Y– …yard.”

“It’s nighttime,” Tim points out. He looks like he’s worried, but trying not to show it. “This isn’t the city, there’s no light to see by.”

“Think… Alfred would care if I j-jogged around the hall _s_ _ss_?”

Tim bites his lip. “Will you let me try something? If it doesn’t work you can go run.”

“Mm.”

Taking that as the affirmation it was meant to be, Tim slides off the bed, opens the window, and then switches out the cassettes in his stereo. Whitney Houston starts to play, soft and sweet. He waits until Jason passes close by on his next circuit and then gently stills him with a hand on his chest, right on his sternum, right over his vibrating heart that feels like it will burst.

Jason stops.

Tim adds pressure.

Jason breathes.

It’s like Jason is bleeding out and Tim is there with gauze. It’s like Jason is a cracked dam and Tim just plugged the leak.

The cool night breeze smells like grass and sky and stars.

Softly, Tim asks, “Good?”

“More,” Jason croaks.

Tim shifts so that he’s standing behind him and both hands settle into place, pulling his back against Tim’s front. He presses so hard Jason’s lungs fight the hold when he inhales, but it’s perfect. Jason puts his own hand over Tim’s just to keep them in place. He’s caged inside Tim’s arms, but he doesn’t feel trapped. He feels grounded.

Tim starts to speak and Jason feels the vibrations of his voice, the heat of his breath between his shoulders. “You’ve felt this before and you got past it. You’ll get through it this time too. It sucks, but it _will_ go away. You’ll be fine in the morning.”

Jason nods jerkily. “K-keep. Keep talking. Anything.”

Tim does. After a while he’s not saying anything important, really, just telling random stories that give Jason something to focus on. Jason listens to him talk, and to the undercurrent of music, and with one hand he pets Tim’s forearm, flattening the small hairs there in the right direction, and with the other he taps to the beat of the song. He catches himself tapping in double-time and forces himself to slow.

“And I was like, Dick, I’m never picking up another cardboard box again for the rest of my life. You can either do it all yourself or hire some movers,” Tim’s saying. “It’s not like we can’t afford it, I mean, he won’t be paying rent or bills or anything while we’re here. I think he felt kinda guilty, though, about me having to move so much. So, you know. He got movers.”

His hands and his eyes need something to do. He says, “Off,” and Tim lets go.

He walks over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of the room and opens the nearest one. He doesn’t know what’s inside because Tim didn’t label them, but he finds clothes in this one. That’s good. Clothes feel good under his fingertips. Sitting down, Jason pulls out each item and arranges them in stacks on the carpet. He folds every shirt or pair of jeans meticulously. When he has them categorised he sorts by color. After he’s finished he tells Tim to put them away and starts on the next box. Tim obeys, putting the clothes in the dresser that was in the room when they moved in. All the bedrooms were already furnished, and their own bunk bed and dresser they’d picked out over a game of rock, paper, scissors, all those months ago are now being kept in storage.  

Jason works and he listens and he feels and he only keeps these few things, shutting out everything else, cutting off every other part of himself like a computer powering down a list of functions one by one because it feels like he won’t survive if he doesn’t. Through it all, Tim keeps talking. He’s enjoying listening to it but eventually Tim’s voice and the music and the textures become too much at once. Too much input, too much to process.

“Quiet.”

Tim stops talking. Jason knows he’s being rude, and he wants to explain exactly how he’s feeling, but he just can’t.

“Sorry.”

Tim says, “It’s fine,” and it sounds so genuine Jason has to glance up, and Tim’s looking at him like he would rip this whole building down around them if that’s what would help Jason right now.

Jason thinks his heart would be twisting up, if he hadn’t turned off that part of his brain. He makes a note to tell Tim tomorrow how much it means to him.

A long time later, all the boxes are unpacked and Jason is exhausted and he thinks he can finally go to sleep. He feels less like he’s going to fall apart– the shaking has calmed down, his muscles are left tense and sore. For a second he considers just flopping onto Tim’s bed for the night but he knows any movement or accidental touching from Tim would put him on edge, so he decides against it.

He hasn’t spoken again, and he still doesn’t think he can, but he won’t leave without thanking Tim somehow. He’s sitting his mattress, watching Jason carefully as he has been for the past however many minutes, hours. He watches as Jason comes to stand in front of him, cradles Tim’s head in his hands, and leans down. Jason feels Tim’s breath stutter unevenly over his own face. He touches his forehead to Tim’s and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth and smell of him. His Tim.

There are tentative fingers in his hair. Jason lets out a sigh, and they scratch in the usual rhythm for a few long moments until Jason pulls away. Hands drop.

He doesn’t really know what the expression on Tim’s face means, but it’s a little bit overwhelmed and little bit hopeful and little bit sad and, most of all, completely full of love.

Jason thinks, again, his heart would be doing something weird if it could.

He turns and walks back to his own room. He opens the window before climbing into bed.

~

Jason is walking around, trying to familiarise himself with the house. It’s a huge building and he’s a little concerned about getting lost, but he needs to know his way around and has time to kill anyway since Tim’s gone at school. So far he knows where his and Tim’s rooms are, and Dick’s down the hall; from previous visits he’s familiar with the kitchen, the library, dining room, and a couple living rooms. Dick said something about an indoor pool but he hasn’t found that yet. Mostly it’s just empty, unused bedrooms and sitting rooms. This place could fit dozens of people, he thinks.

He’s walking down a hall with family portraits on the wall of people he doesn’t recognise, some looking very old. They get more modern as he goes, and then he spots one that he thinks must be Bruce, as a little boy, with his parents. Next to that is one of Bruce and a young Dick, and then Bruce and Tim. Just past those, a door hangs open. He pauses, poking his head inside. Bruce is lying in a massive bed in the center of the room.

He knew Bruce had been moved up to his own bedroom from the cave, but he didn’t know where exactly that was. Jason hasn’t seen him in the week seen they moved in, or even in the month since he got hurt. Tim visits every day, but Jason has been letting him go alone, not wanting to interrupt their time together– even though the man is still unconscious. He feels like an intruder.

Alfred is sitting in a rocking chair beside the bed. Jason means to go unseen, but before he can duck away Alfred notices him.

“Um.” Jason’s voice is small. “Am I allowed to be here?”

“Of course. Come sit, if you wish,” Alfred says, tilting his head toward the second chair next to his.  

Jason hesitates. He feels very out of place in this room. Bruce is wrapped in bandages, though less than before. If not for the heart monitor he’s hooked up to, he could just be sleeping.

If not for the heart monitor beeping at regular intervals, he could be dead.

Jason hadn’t had a machine to tell him his mom was dead.

Alfred doesn’t say anything, letting Jason stay or go like either one is fine with him. He’s working on something in his lap. Jason takes a few steps into the room, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“I am knitting a blanket,” Alfred answers. “Would you like to see?”

Jason’s curiosity draws him the rest of the way in and he sits down. Alfred unfolds the blanket to show off its entirety. It’s a deep blue spiral of squares, about three feet by three feet, each row only a couple inches wide and meeting the one next to it with a thick ridge where they connect.

“It’s really nice.”

“Thank you, Master Jason.” He goes back to knitting.

Jason grimaces. It’s still so weird being called that. He clears his throat. “Hey, Alfred?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t… It makes me uncomfortable when you call me master.”

Alfred looks over at him, hands stilling.

Pushing through the nerves squeezing his neck, he adds, “And when you clean for me and stuff. I don’t like it.”

“Why not?” Alfred asks, but he doesn’t sound mad at all and that makes it easier to answer. Alfred doesn’t ever feel dangerous or threatening, even though he’s very strong and good with weapons (as told by Tim).

“I’m not used to it. And you’re old. I mean, _older._ You shouldn’t be the one bowing to me.”

For a long minute, Alfred is quiet. Then, “When you boys lived in the apartment, did you do most of the housework?”

“Yeah.”

“And why did you do it?”

“Because it needed to be done, and I didn’t mind it. And, well, I guess I liked doing something for Tim and Dick. I liked being able to do nice things for them and take care of them, because they did so much for me.”

“I believe you and I feel much the same way about this. This, cooking and cleaning and knitting warm blankets… this is how I take care of my family.” He looks at Bruce lying on the bed. His fingers trail over the pattern on the blanket in his lap. “This is all I can do.”

“But I’m not…” Jason peters off. He knows this is what Alfred does. It’s his job and he cares for Bruce and Dick and Tim. Dick told him to think of it as Alfred’s way of showing love and respect. That makes him feel weird too, though. He doesn’t know why Alfred would love and respect him. Hell, he doesn’t even know why Dick and Tim love and respect him, and here Alfred is, a man that barely knows him, calling him master and cleaning his room and doing his laundry. Jason doesn’t feel like he has any right to Alfred’s care. He’s a stranger. “I’m not part of your family.”

“On the contrary,” the man says matter-of-factly, “you very much are. You are family to my family, and that makes you family to me.”

Jason swallows roughly, looking down. His eyes are stinging. He hasn’t felt alone for months now, but in that time it never occurred to him that Dick and Tim are his family. That Alfred and even Bruce could be. He just never thought of it like that. It’s so different from any kind of family he knew before; families are moms and dads and maybe siblings, but that’s not what he has here. Bruce is a dad to Dick and Tim, but not Jason. There’s no mom. Dick and Tim are kind of brothers, but Jason isn’t sure if he fits in that category. He doesn’t know what Alfred is. But it doesn’t matter, he realises. This _is_ his family because they all take care of each other and love each each other and Jason is so, so grateful to have found them, to have been found by them.

“However, I’m willing to adhere to your request. I do not want to make you uncomfortable, Jason.”

“Yeah?” He raises his head. “That mean you’re gonna show me where the laundry room is?”

Alfred laughs lowly, eyes warm. “Yes, I will show you where the laundry room is.”

Jason smiles. “Thank you. You know, if you really want to help me, you could teach me things. Like cooking better or, or knitting.”

Alfred considers that, considers him. Then he nods decisively. “Very well. I would enjoy that.” Leaning over to the side, he lifts up a basket full of yarn and offers it to Jason. “Choose a color.”

~

Alfred is showing Jason the proper way to pan grill a steak when Tim comes busting into the kitchen, wide-eyed and breathless, miming with frantic movements. He raises both fists above his head like he’s flying, and then stands with his chest puffed out and arms akimbo, and then points down to the floor urgently.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jason asks.

Tim puts his index finger in front of his lips. _Shh!_ He repeats the movements with more emphasis, mouthing out words at the same time. Eventually, Jason understands what he’s trying to say: _Superman is here._

Biting back a grin, he keeps acting clueless, and Tim keeps repeating the motions, getting more exaggerated each time. When looks like he’s about rip his hair out from frustration and excitement, Jason can’t help but laugh.

Stilling, Tim stares at him for a minute. “Oh. Oh you asshole! You know exactly what I’m saying!”

Jason laughs harder. Even Alfred quirks a smile.

“Forget it,” Tim snaps. “You can stay here, I’m gonna go meet Superman without you!”

“Will he be joining us for dinner?” Alfred asks.

“Of course I will,” Superman says, walking into the kitchen with Dick. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on your cooking, Alfred!”

Tim scrambles out of the way, looking up at him in awe. Jason is in awe too, but it’s tangential to the feeling of wanting to step back and hide behind Alfred. This is the most powerful man on the planet, right there, standing in their kitchen, ten feet away, blue and red all over, and yes it’s _Superman_ and everyone knows Superman is good, but what Jason knows is that he is a _stranger_ and Jason wasn’t prepared to meet a stranger today, much less one that can do anything he wants to do. The only thing keeping Jason in place is the fact that Dick knows and trusts him and Jason knows and trusts Dick.

“This is Tim, and that’s Jason,” says Dick, pointing to them in turn.

Superman smiles. “Nice to meet you, boys.”

He offers his hand to Tim, who shakes it eagerly. He takes a step toward Jason, who flinches away and hates himself for it. He’s better now, so much better than he used to be, he should be able to shake someone’s hand. He should be able to shake _Superman’s_ hand, at least. But he can’t and he feels like an idiot.

Superman doesn’t act like Jason’s an idiot though. He immediately drops his arm and moves back, and just gives him a smile and then asks Alfred what’s cooking like what just happened is totally normal and fine.

“What are you doing here?” Tim asks

“I came to Gotham to give Batman a night off,” he answers, clapping Dick on the shoulder companionably. “Thought I’d drop by and check in on Bruce while I was at it.”

“Thanks again,” Dick says.

“Not a problem. Call anytime, okay? Always happy to give Gotham criminals a run for their money. Speaking of which…” He tilts his head like he’s listening to something far away. “I’d better get going. Alfred, I’ll take a rain-check on that steak.”

“Very well, sir,” Alfred says.

Superman nods goodbye to everyone and leaves in a _whoosh._

Looking at Jason carefully, Dick asks, “You okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

“It’s okay,” Jason interrupts. “I’m okay. So, you have tonight off?”

Dick’s expression eases. “Yup! I was thinking we could break out some board games. Who’s up for Monopoly?”

They play Monopoly after dinner and there’s scheming and yelling and cursing and, through a series of seemingly shitty financial decisions that somehow end up working out, Tim wins. Dick doesn’t talk to him for two days.

~

“Heads up, gramps.”

Jason snatches the apple flying toward him before it can smack him in the face. “Thanks.”

Tim sits on the stool next to him, bowl clinking on the kitchen island as he sets it down gingerly, milk licking at the rim. He hooks his ankle around Jason’s and swings their legs gently back and forth.

“Wait, why am I a grandpa?”

“Reading the newspaper,” Tim mumbles around a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

“Everyone reads newspapers, Tim, not just old people.”

“Whatever you say.” He slurps up another spoonful. Milk dribbles from his bottom lip. Gross. “You coming with us today?”

“Yeah. Meeting Barbara. Hey, listen to this,” he says, and reads a passage from today’s headlining article. “ _Apparently the appearance of Superman on Friday, November the eighth was only the beginning. Since then, multiple well known superheroes have been spotted all over Gotham including The Arrow, Hawkman, and several members of the Teen Titans. It seems as though Batman, previously notorious for being unwelcome to super-powered beings in Gotham, has changed tactics in light of the crime epidemic that hit the city after so many criminals were released from Arkham Asylum in September, most of whom have since been apprehended and returned to their cells._ ”

Tim quietly stirs his cereal. “So he really doesn’t need me.”

Jason is about to say something, but then Tim turns and gives a small smile, and it’s relieved and proud and it makes Jason smile too.

Alfred comes into the kitchen, car keys in hand. “Come along, boys, or you will be late for school.”

Tim groans, but he he doesn’t actually look all that upset.

~

“I thought I wasn’t allowed down here,” Jason says, looking around the cave as he follows Dick down the steps and onto the concrete floor.  

Dick is gone a lot, at work during the day and out as Batman at night. It’s really just Jason and Alfred here most of the time. But today is Dick’s day off, and while Jason expected him to use that time for… he doesn’t know– whatever adults do on their days off– it seems like Dick wants to spend it with him.

“I don’t want either of you trying to be vigilantes, but no, you can come down whenever you want. There’s nowhere in the house you’re not allowed to be.” Coming to a stop at a slightly raised platform where the Batmobile sits, Dick turns around. “So, do you want to work on the car?”

“The car? As in… the _that?_ ” he asks incredulously, pointing at the Batmobile.

“Yup. I’ve got to do some routine maintenance. You want to help?”

Slack-jawed, Jason stares at him for a minute. “Really?”

“Yeah, come on.”

They start with easy stuff like changing the oil and checking fluid levels. Dick has to walk him through it because Jason’s experience with cars is more along the lines of taking them apart, rather than maintaining or fixing them. He knows exactly what everything is, however, and what it should look like if it’s in good shape because he had to know if a part was worth stealing. He knows exactly how the engine runs because he’s read every book or magazine about them he could find. It’s all very intimidating at first– it’s the fucking _Batmobile_. It’s the most complex and intricate machine Jason’s ever worked on. But, in the end, it’s still just a machine, and Jason knows machines.

There are some things Dick refuses to let him help with, like checking the springs on the grapple that could slice off your fingers. Reloading the missiles and guns. That sort of thing.

Crouching down, Dick inspects the tread on one of the tires. “We need to replace these. Do you know how to change a tire?”

Jason looks at the wheel, and then at Dick, and he _laughs._

Dick’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, but he’s smiling a little. “What’s so funny?”

“Yeah, what’s so funny?” Tim asks, walking over to them. He spots the dark smudges of oil all over their hands and clothes. “Woah, you’re working on the car? I wanna help!”

Jason is still cackling, tears at the corners of his eyes, bent over with forearms on the trunk for support.

“What did you do to him?”

Dick shrugs helplessly. “I just asked if he could change the tires.”

Jason quiets for a brief moment, just long enough to make eye contact with Tim, and then they’re both cracking up, and Tim throws himself over Jason’s back, smothering his giggles into his shirt. Dick throws his hands up, muttering something about “...your own little world.”

When he’s calmed down, Jason tells Dick why they thought it was so funny, about how he tried to jack the Batmobile’s wheels that one night, and he’s not scared at all. He’s not worried that Dick will suddenly think he’s terrible and want to kick him out. A very small part of him wants to keep this story to himself, just between him and Tim, but it feels good to let Dick in, and Dick thinks it’s the best story he’s ever heard.

So Jason changes the tires.

“I saw in the paper that you and Starfire caught the Mad Hatter,” he says as he cranks the tire iron, loosening the bolts of the rear left wheel. “That’s pretty cool.”

Dick’s voice comes from inside the car where he’s cleaning the interior. “Is it?”

“Yeah. You’re friends with her. And all of them. Right?”

Dick poke his head out. “Yeah?”

“Well, Superman came by that one time. And all these other superheros are coming to the city but I haven’t seen them around the house. I was just wondering why.” Because Jason may not be an expert on friends and how to spend time with them, but even he can see that Dick needs to do more than what he’s been doing. For as long as Jason has known him, the only friend-type person he seems to hang out with is Barbara.

“Why the other superheros aren’t hanging out here?” Jason nods and Dick moves so he’s sitting sideways on the seat, legs hanging out of the car. “I saw how Superman made you uncomfortable. You don’t like strangers. I didn’t want you to feel… like your space had been invaded. This is your home, and you don’t always feel safe around new people, so I haven’t had them come here.”

“Oh.” The wheel slides off and Jason moves to work on the one in the front. “You should invite them over. It’s fine with me– it’ll be fine if I have some warning, is all. Or you can go out with them, or whatever. As long as it’s something other than fighting crime. You can’t worry about me not having more than one friend and then turn around and do the same thing.”

Dick grins. “You’re right. Okay, I will.”

Later, Jason is tightening the bolts on the new wheel when there’s a flash, and he glances up to find Tim grinning at him, camera in hand. He’s seen the camera before, but he hasn’t seen Tim actually use it until now.

“Smile!” Tim commands, and Jason does. Another flash.

Dick lets Tim have a go at the computer system, checking that all the programs are functioning correctly. Jason watches for part of that, but finds his way back to the engine after a while.

They work up until dinner time. They go upstairs to get showered and changed before sitting down to eat, the three of them together, and Jason feels so good. He feels sore and warm and accomplished and safe and loved.

Several days later Jason goes into Tim’s room to hunt for one of the shirts Tim has stolen from Dick because they’re big and worn and soft, and he spots a couple new picture frames on the desk. They’re both photographs of Jason, bent down next to the Batmobile’s wheel with a tire iron in hand, though one is about two years old and the other is new. In one, he looks small and nervous. In the other, he looks happy.

~

“I’m going to be gone for a few days,” Dick announces halfway through dessert.

Tim licks pie crumbs off his lip. “When?”

“Tonight.” He sets down his fork. “I’m going to get Bane.”

Tim pauses. Next to him, Jason shifts so their sides are pressed together and asks, “Yeah?”

“Batgirl, Black Canary, and Huntress tracked him to San Paolo. I didn’t want to leave until we were certain where he was, so they did the leg work and I’m meeting them there. We’re bringing him back here, and he’s going to prison,” Dick says firmly, looking at them both in a way that would make Jason trust him, if he didn’t already. “Superman and the Flash will be watching the city while I’m gone.”

It’s quiet for a minute, and then Tim unfreezes. He says, “Okay,” and eats another bite of pie.

Dick watches him eat, and then smiles. He says, “Okay,” and follows suit.

~

That night Dick leaves and it shouldn’t feel different from any other night he goes out as Batman except that it does. They know he won’t be coming back in a few hours. They know he’s not a phone call away.  

Tim comes into Jason’s room, dressed in his baggy nighttime shirt and shorts, looking small in the dim light of the bedside lamp Jason’s using to read by. Before he can ask, Jason lowers his legs straight out in front of him on the bed and motions him over. Tim lies down, pillowing his head on Jason’s thighs.

Jason flips back to the first page. He reads aloud.

“ _There was this fence where we pressed our faces and felt the wind turn warm and held to the fence and forgot who we were or where we came from but dreamed of who we might be and where we might go…_ ”

The next morning Jason wakes up curled around Tim. He stays like that for a while because Tim is warm and nice to hold and it’s a Saturday so there’s no reason to get up anytime soon. Eventually Tim wakes up too and Jason knows right away when it happens because he goes stiff in his arms. Jason frowns.

“It’s me,” he says, because maybe Tim’s disoriented and thinks it’s someone else touching him.

Tim lets out a strained puff of a laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

“Is this… a problem?” He didn’t think it would be. They touch all the time. They hug and cuddle and they’ve slept in the same bed before and last night Tim’s the one that came and lied on top of Jason’s legs. Maybe this is different, with how Jason’s front is pressed all along Tim’s back and Jason’s arm is wrapped around Tim’s waist and Jason’s nose is buried in the hair on the back of Tim’s head, but he doesn’t see why it would be.

Tim squirms a little. “No. No problem. Hey, I need to– I need to go.” He wriggles his way out from under Jason and walks quickly toward the door, not looking back once. “I’ll meet you for breakfast!”

“Okay,” Jason replies, slightly baffled. Maybe Tim’s upset over a bad dream, though he usually talks to Jason about it when that happens.

Jason shrugs, stretches. He gets up and gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen. When he’s almost done with the pancakes Tim walks in, sniffing appreciatively, hair wet from a shower and not quite meeting Jason’s eyes.

Jason portions the pancakes onto two plates and they eat at the table.

“You okay?” Jason asks after a minute of silence.

“Yeah.” A beat passes, and then Tim finally looks up properly. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be worried about Dick, you know.”

There’s a flash of… guilt? “I know.” Tim pours even more maple syrup. “I’m gonna go talk to Bruce after this. You should come with me.”

“What would I say?”

“Anything, it doesn’t matter. I figure he gets bored, so I tell him about my day or whatever.”

“He doesn’t care about my day.” He wants to add that he doesn’t think Bruce can hear it anyway, but it’s important to Tim to believe he can, that he’s been listening and Tim’s been helping this whole time.

“Yes he does! And even if he doesn’t, it’s probably better listening to something rather than nothing, right? Maybe you could read to him.”

“Ha, nope, that’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“I’d feel stupid. The only other time I read out loud to people was on my first day of school and it sucked _so bad_.”

“You read to me last night,” Tim points out, shaking his fork at him and splattering syrup in the process.

“Watch it!” Jason licks syrup off the back of his hand. “You’re gonna get me all sticky, asshole.”

For some reason, Tim flushes red. “Just– just come say hi to Bruce. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Fine,” Jason agrees. After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the dishes, they head for Bruce’s bedroom, Jason stopping on the way to pick up his knitting project. They settle in the two rocking chairs by the bed and he works while Tim talks. He zones out until he hears his own name.

“Jason's making something, I don’t know what.”

“A scarf,” he mumbles in response.

“He’s knitting a scarf,” Tim says to Bruce, like a commentator.

Jason sighs, looking down at the hole that’s not supposed to be there. He must have slipped a stitch again. “It’s not good,” he says, holding it up to show. “It’s all… wonky. The sides aren’t straight and there’s holes. I’m gonna start over.”

Tim reaches out as if to save it from Jason. “No! I like your wonky scarf with holes in it.”

“Why? It’s ugly.”

“Because. Because you made it. And it’s not _ugly,_ it’s… charming. Or something.”

“Really?” he asks doubtfully, inspecting that thing that, in his opinion, is terrible. But if Tim likes it, then, “Do you want it when I’m finished?”

Tim lights up, surprised. “Yeah!”

“You’ll actually wear it?”

“Totally, all the time.”

It’s stupid, but that makes Jason feel so happy and warm and accepted, like if Tim wants his scarf with all of its imperfections then he wants Jason with all of his too. It makes him want to lean over and press a kiss to Tim’s cheek, and he doesn’t even care that that’s not something boys usually do because so much about them and their lives is not usual and what Jason has learned this past year is to cut out things that upset him and do the things that make him happy and hold on to those little, important things. Unfortunately the gap between their chairs is just wide enough that he wouldn't be able to reach without the arm digging painfully into his ribs, so he settles for reaching across and giving him a kiss with two fingers instead. The pads of his index and middle finger brush Tim’s cheek and for a second he’s worried that Tim won’t understand what he’s doing, but then Tim’s eyes widen and he turns pink and he smiles, so Jason thinks he gets it enough.

~

Dick comes home late Sunday night with news that Bane is locked away is Blackgate Prison.

Tim hugs him for a long time. Jason does too. Dick hugs them back just as hard.

~

It’s a few days before Thanksgiving when Alfred announces he’s going to wake up Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly how long can I drag out Bruce's coma? Lol I promise he will actually be a part of the story starting in the next chapter. I just wanted the boys to get settled first. 
> 
> Also, for the past couple chapters there have been mentions of Knightfall in the comments, so I need to tell you, I’m not doing this like Knightfall. I took the part where Bane breaks Bruce’s back, but after that it’s all different. There’s no Jean-Paul/Azreal or Dr. Shondra Kinsolving here and Alfred doesn’t resign.
> 
> The book Jason read is _R is for Rocket_ by Ray Bradbury
> 
> I love you all and can't thank you enough for your continued support and encouragement


End file.
